Conversations with Ozai
by ShoeNinja
Summary: The war is over, but the era of "Peace and Love" is not shaping up as promised. Desperate for guidance, Zuko turns to his father. Ozai has problems of his own, but when Katara tries to help things get complicated. Zutara, the Gaang, and lots of Ozai. (Now Updated with Alternate Ending and Epilogue!)
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is more or less my first attempt at fan-fiction, or creative writing, period. When searching for inspiration to write this, I was sort of inspired by the whole Silence of the Lambs dynamic with the evil psychopath behind bars with his brain being picked by the hero (or perhaps the "brain picking" may have been the other way around…but I digress). I'm not really sure if this will be a traditional "Chapter" story, or perhaps a series of interconnected drabbles…we'll see how it shapes up. While the piece is intended to be a dark drama revolving around Ozai and the various visits he receives from other characters while imprisoned, there will eventually be Zutara undertones. Nothing flagrant, but consider that fair warning. And while we're on warnings, I'm going to rate this "T" for now on account of language and adult themes, but if I get complaints I may raise it to "M".

In any case, I hope you enjoy-but even if you don't, constructive criticism is most certainly appreciated! Just don't brow-beat me for silly grammatical errors. I'm only human.

{Many of the characters, locations, ideas, represented in this work of fan-fiction are property of Nickelodeon and the creators of Avatar, and I do not presume to claim them as my own. A few ideas are indeed of my own creation, but to avoid liability-I hereby denounce them...}

**Conversations with Ozai**

Prologue: A New Era

The warm summer nights brought with them the tepid rains that gave life to the lush, tropical landscape. This evening was no different. Droplets pattered softly upon the sandy streets of the bustling Capitol; drowning out the usual din of activity in the harbor district of the city. The seasonal rains were ample enough to fill the freshwater cisterns for at least another year, and at the very least they provided a much desired treat for those afflicted by unusually balmy Fire Nation heat.

Filthy street urchins giggled and squealed in pleasure as they played a game of stickball in a dilapidated alley, the rain leaving muddy trails down their faces. High on the rooftops of one of the whitewashed structures that made up so much of the city's red-capped skyline sat a lone figure, legs swinging freely over the side of the building. His golden eyes darted back and forth between the playful children in the alley below and the dead body of a haggard old beggar only a few yards away from them. How well it summarized life as he had come to know it these past few years.

In the months since the Avatar's defeat of Fire Lord Ozai, a fragile peace had been imposed upon the four nations…but with the war's end had come a myriad of challenges; particularly for his own. As it turned out, most of the world was far less willing to forgive a hundred years of transgressions than Aang had claimed they would be. Hunger riots had to be quelled daily in the city—for when the Earth Kingdom colonies were ceded back to their pre-war standing, so too were the tracts of fertile land that had become the bread basket of the Fire Nation. Crime was becoming rampant as soldiers returned home to a way of life they no longer understood. Even across the sea, those former colonies were subjected to much chaos in the wake of the Avatar's decree that "All shall be as it was." Whole towns were uprooted. Families were torn apart. Lifetimes of work and wealth were ripped away. And in the midst of all the confusion, one thing had become painfully clear to the newly crowned Fire Lord: His people were very, very unhappy.

_And none of them understand_, he mused not for the first time. The young man raised a hand and wiped the rain from his brow, pushing a few strands of wet hair back behind his ears. There were a million pressing matters that should have drawn him back to the palace, but they could wait. They would have to wait. There was someone Zuko needed to see first.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1: Seed

The hour was late, Ozai realized, as the sound of jingling keys roused him from uncomfortable sleep. He lay with eyes still closed, listening curiously to the quiet words being exchanged just outside his external cell door. The lock 'clicked' and old iron hinges creaked their displeasure as a lone shadowed figure pushed his way through the entrance and padded into the room, stopping a few feet short of the metal bars that had become the disgraced former Fire Lord's whole world.

"Zuko." He said simply, not bothering to open his eyes. Who else would come this time of night to bother the most despised man in all the four nations?

The visitor breathed a quiet sigh, folding his arms across his chest and crouching to take a seat upon the cold stone floor. With a wave of his hand the lantern on the wall sparked to life, its small flame casting a dim but ample light across the small space of the cell. "Ming says you haven't been eating well."

Ozai sat up at last, sparing a cursory glance toward his son before turning fully to look him in the eyes. The face before him may well have been his own twenty years ago—_Well, half of it, anyway_. "You didn't come here to discuss my diet." It was not a question. The desperation was plain to see in Zuko's eyes, and in the dark circles beneath them. The slump of the young Fire Lord's shoulders betrayed the truth of many a sleepless night. "Have they tried to kill you yet?"

At that Zuko leveled a dark glare at his father, but did not answer. He didn't need to.

A rare smile pulled at Ozai's lips, though it did not linger for long. "Very well. We can make believe that I don't know exactly what's brought the _Fire Lord_ to my cell to awaken me in the middle of the night." He cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter and gesturing theatrically, "The food here is simply _awful_! Why, I do believe my guards have taken turns pissing in the kimchee…Surely, oh great and merciful Fire Lord, you would not let your faithful and repentant subject suffer a slow death by starvation!" Indulging in a sneer, Ozai reached out a hand to grasp one of the metal bars. "Now, can we dispense with the formalities and get on with it?"

"Enough…Alright. I-…I just want to talk. I need some…advice…" The soft tenor of his son's voice was tinged with shame_. _

_And why wouldn't you be ashamed, boy? You betrayed me, crushed everything I built, took everything I had, and now you seek my aid? My comfort?_ _Why? Why didn't you go to Iroh? _"Hm. I see." He didn't, really, but was no sense in betraying his curiosity to Zuko. Not when there was information to be gleaned, and perhaps used. With some measure of difficulty Ozai schooled his features into something resembling a sympathetic look. "Zuko…My son…I know well the burdens that you must bear to sit upon the throne. The crown—" He nodded toward the golden hairpiece that was perched in the younger man's haphazardly tied topknot, "—is far heavier than it looks."

"But you were a _terrible_ leader!" Zuko exclaimed at last, his brow furrowed in frustration. "You were a tyrant, a monster…At least Azula had an _excuse_, she was insane…but you? You ruled our people like none of their lives mattered; like the rest of the _world_ didn't matter…But they followed you anyway. No one ever sent assassins after _you_."

"They loved me." The former ruler shrugged.

"They_ feared_ you." Zuko countered matter-of-factly.

Ozai snorted softly, shaking his head. "What difference does it make? The point is that you need to secure the loyalty of your subjects. Let them love you, or let them fear you, but never, _ever_ let them think they can get rid of you."

The young man pursed his lips, considering.

"The Fire Nation is in chaos," Ozai continued, pressing his advantage as he watched his son falter, "and all your people see is a puppet King who dances this way and that at the whim of the Avatar. Tell me, Zuko, do you think your _friend_ was right do what he has done?" It was all he could do to keep from spitting the words. The boy who had taken his ability to firebend from him forever was a sore subject with him.

A few moments passed before the young Fire Lord answered. "Do I think it right that the war was ended? Absolutely…It's just…Everything after that. I tried to tell him. He wouldn't listen, not even when Katara said it was too much. The reparations…The colonies…" he closed his eyes, shaking his head, "Some of those families had been there for generations. The Earth Kingdom _was_ their home…"

"And?" Ozai asked gently.

"…No." Another moment's hesitation. "I don't. I don't think it was right." Zuko looked up, golden eyes burning. "And neither do my people."

A genuine smile etched its way across the imprisoned man's face, cracking his chapped lips as he gave in and allowed it to spread ear to ear. Sometimes, the smallest victories were the sweetest. "Indeed." Ozai folded his arms across his chest and leaned forward; savoring the spark of power his tiny manipulation had won him. _Sow the seed, and reap the harvest…I have you, now. _ "So what are you going to do about it, _Fire Lord_?"

* * *

><p>AN: And there you have it, Chapter 1. I realize it's a little short by most standards, but I felt like adding more for the sake of wordcount would have detracted from the mood I was going for.

To my reviewers: Thank you all so very much for the kind words and encouragement! I've been hesitant about my first foray into the crazy world of fanfiction, and it's reassuring to receive such great feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2: Candy

It had been a few hours since dawn—give or take—from what Ozai could garner based upon the angle the sunlight hit the stone wall from the single high window in his cell. Since his firebending had been taken from him, he no longer felt the innate urge to rise with the sun, and his chi no longer allowed his body to warm itself whenever it was overhead. He missed that feeling of warmth. If he permitted himself to dwell upon it, he began to feel nauseous in the pit of his stomach. It was a new sensation…one of many he had experienced for the first time since his defeat during Sozin's comet and subsequent imprisonment. Coldness. Boredom. Discomfort. Weakness. Hunger…

Yes, hunger. That was the culprit of the moment, he realized, as he felt his stomach churn once more. The food here, he had been told, was the same that soldiers had been rationed when serving overseas during the war. It was meager and unremarkable, but hearty, and kept the troops well nourished. At least, that's what his Generals had always told him. How he wished he could melt their eyeballs from their skulls for that lie…

He was roused from his moment of reflection by the sound of the door creaking open, and the guard Ming's familiar footsteps as she padded over to the cell.

"Breakfast." She explained unnecessarily as she set the tray down on the floor within arm's reach through the metal bars, nudging it just a little closer to Ozai with the toe of her boot. "Don't worry, nobody's pissed in it." That last part was a bit more acidic that Ming's temperament usually exhibited, and he found himself wondering if Zuko had misconstrued his sarcastic comments the night before and taken up the issue with the guards.

For the briefest moment Ozai wondered if perhaps he should apologize, but quickly dismissed the notion. He gave no word of thanks, only a nod as he reached for the small bowl of rice and fish. Picking up the chopsticks, he prodded the food around disinterestedly and took two small bites before glancing up as he realized Ming was still standing there. Hands upon her hips in a most matronly way, she 'tsked' softly and shook her head.

"Fire Lord Zuko says I'm to make sure you finish your meals from now on." She explained, nodding her head pointedly at the barely touched bowl in his hands.

"Tell 'Fire Lord Zuko' I would be more apt to finish them if they didn't taste like they had already been in the digestive tract of a kimodo-rhino." was his dry response. As if in protest, he set the bowl down and pushed it away.

That brought the slightest smirk to Ming's thin lips. "I never realized you were such a spoiled brat."

Ozai glared at the woman incredulously. If he were still Fire Lord—"What did you call me?"

"I said you're acting like a spoiled brat." She repeated, raising her chin and crossing her arms over her chest. "People are out there starving in the streets, and here you are turning your nose up at perfectly decent food. Some would kill for that bowl of rice, you know…"

He rolled his eyes, though her lecture did bring the faintest blush to his cheeks. "Well then, give it to _them_."

Ming sighed, shaking her head as she crouched down so that she could look him in the face at eye level. "Look. I know you're angry. And I know this isn't what you're used to being served…" she drawled on as if speaking to a child. "…but you don't live in the palace anymore, and chances are you're going to be here for a long, long time, so it would be in your best interests to start adapting to change."

Ozai opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off as a raging ball of fire sprung to life in Ming's palm. Involuntarily, the former Fire Lord flinched.

"Now. Are you going to eat that food, or am I going to have to shove it down your throat?"

Ozai picked up his bowl and chopsticks.

* * *

><p>A week had passed since Zuko's visit, and despite feeling slightly less sick to his stomach than he had before Ming's mealtime regimen had been instituted, Ozai found his thoughts meandering toward the conversation they had shared that night. He had been so sure of himself, so convinced that Zuko was falling into his grasp. But perhaps he had underestimated his son. It wouldn't be the first time, after all.<p>

Still, it bothered him that there was so much he didn't understand. Living in solitary confinement wasn't exactly conducive to staying up to date on current events, and with so much political upheaval after his defeat it was hard to deduce just how things would play out; how they _had_ played out. How could he be expected to effectively manipulate Zuko when he hadn't the slightest idea what was going on outside the thick stone walls of his prison?

Moreover, there were two other factors whose statuses remained a mystery to him. Iroh, for one. His traitorous brother had long held Zuko's leash, and Ozai found himself boggling not for the first time over the fact that his son had bothered to come to him at all on that night. Why hadn't he run to his beloved uncle, as he always had before? And then, there was _her_…

"Where is my daughter?" Ozai asked as Ming set his dinner tray on the floor.

"You know I'm not allowed to divulge that kind of information to a prisoner." She replied, though he could have sworn there was some measure of sympathy audible in her voice.

"Is she alive?" It was a simple question. And why were his eyes burning?

"I can't…" Ming sighed softly, glancing back over her shoulder. "I can't tell you where she _is_."

_So she _is_ somewhere. Which means she isn't dead._ Ozai felt a sense of relief sweep over him, and wondered why his body would react that way.

"Are you okay?" the guardswoman asked, her tone most definitely one of concern.

Ozai only nodded, though his mind was already elsewhere.

* * *

><p>Wrapped in a threadbare towel, the former Fire Lord walked barefoot through the quiet stone corridor to his cell. Four male guards flanked him, watching him carefully for any sign that he might try to make a break for it. He knew he wouldn't get far, and so did they. Yet once a week they did this anyway—escorting him from his cell to the communal bathing chamber and allowing him a few brief minutes to scrub away what sweat and grime he could in the tepid water. Firebenders took hot baths for granted, he always mused as he shivered in the wash tub; though his pride would never permit him to ask one of the guards to heat the water for him. His soiled clothing from the past week was whisked away to the laundry facilities and he would be given little more than a towel to cover himself before being marched back to the small stone room with the bars.<p>

One guard took him by the arm and shoved him back inside the cell while another closed the gate and locked it behind him. The guardsmen filed out of the room and once more the prisoner was left to himself. There was a pile of freshly laundered prison scrubs on his cot, and Ozai wasted no time changing into them.

"All decent?" Ming called as she rapped her fist on the outer door. When he didn't answer she turned the lock and let herself in anyway. "Did you have a nice bath?"

Ozai stood in the corner of his cell wringing his long hair out with the old towel. "No." he rasped out, as usual, still shivering.

"Well, that's too bad." She lamented dryly, by this time accustomed to the prisoner's grouchiness. "I have something that might cheer you up, though." With a smile the woman produced a small parchment bag from her pocket and slipped it through the bars.

"What is this?" Ozai asked warily, reaching for the package and testing its weight against the palm of his hand.

Ming smiled. "It's a gift from Fire Lord Zuko. I told him in my last weekly report about how much progress you've made with your mealtimes and behavior, and he sent that for you. Apparently it's supposed to help with your stomach troubles. He said I'm supposed to tell you that it's something he learned while at sea for three years…"

Scowling in spite of himself, the prisoner unfolded the top edge of the bag and dumped some of its fragrant contents out into his open palm. "Candy?"

"Ginger candy." She clarified, as if that were supposed to help everything make sense.

Ozai put one of the candies in his mouth and winced at the bracing taste. "Is that it?" he asked, rather shortly.

"No, actually," said Ming, "I'm also supposed to let you know that you may expect a visit from the Fire Lord this evening. After dinner. He said the two of you will share tea."

"Did he, now…" The candy was sweet on his tongue, but not so delicious as the tiny inkling of triumph that warmed the back of his mind.

Ming turned and started for the door, presumably to go about her other duties in the meantime.

"Wait, Ming."

The guardswoman stopped, slowly turning back to face the man behind the bars. "Yes, did you need something?"

Ozai paused a moment, mulling his words over in his head before he spoke them. "What do you know about the people in the colonies?"

Ming raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised by the question. "A bit, I guess. My uncle moved over there and settled down a long time ago. Before I was born, even. My cousins were born there…They ran a small grain mill. One even married a woman from the Earth Kingdom." She shrugged, her face taking on a more sullen appearance. "When they were all deported after the Avatar's decree, he had to leave her behind. My uncle died aboard the ship on the crossing, but my cousins all live in the tent city that's been set up for former colonists on the East side of the harbor. Things are tough there…rations are even tighter than in the city proper."

For a long while Ozai didn't say anything.

"Is that all?" Ming prodded quietly.

"Yes…That's all." Ozai sat down, clutching the small parchment bag to his chest. "Thank you, Ming."

* * *

><p>AN: I hope no one was overly turned off by the fact that Zuko doesn't make an actual appearance this chapter, but I wanted to take some time and focus on the mundane aspects of what has now become Ozai's life. It was also a good opportunity to develop his rapport with Ming. Don't worry, though—he'll be around in Chapter 3.

To the Reviewers: Thank you again for your kind comments, and especially for your suggestions! I love suggestions, and appreciate the time you've taken to share your thoughts!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 3: Respect**

Ming hadn't been the one to bring his dinner to him, and to Ozai's surprise this annoyed him greatly. His months in prison had, if nothing else, turned him into somewhat of a habitual creature. He willingly clung to the routines enforced upon him, for in some perverse way he found comfort in knowing what to expect.

And he hadn't expected this. The fat, bearded guard leaned disinterestedly against the wall, tapping the toe of his boot impatiently. "You got two minutes to finish that. I can't wait around all night."

"Where is Ming?" Ozai demanded, still refusing to touch the offered meal.

"That's none of your concern, _prisoner_. Hurry up. _One_ minute."

"I must speak with Ming. It's important."

"Shut up and quit wasting my time."

Gripping the bars of his cage until his knuckles whitened, he managed to bite back the string of threats and dark promises that would have instantly spilled forth in response to the fat guard if he had still been Fire Lord. _If I could still bend fire, I would roast you where you stand_. "Get out." He demanded instead, his voice as icy and dangerous as ever it had been when he'd still sat the throne.

That brought a hearty laugh to the guard. "Didn't anyone tell you? You don't get to give orders in here!" Still chuckling, he kicked the tray of untouched food up a little closer to the cell. Soup sloshed around messily, and the small bowl of rice tipped over. "Now eat your damned dinner before I…"

Ozai reached forth with lightning reflexes, picking up the tray and flinging it—along with everything it held—at the dumbstruck guard. Hot soup splattered down the man's pants, his boots covered in now soggy rice. As the tray once again clattered against the floor, and the shock on the guard's face gave way to an irate scowl, Ozai leveled a smoldering gaze upon him. "Get. Out."

Veritably shaking with anger, the guard stalked over to the door, but did not open it. Instead, he raised a gloved hand and banged three times. Immediately three more guards filed into the chamber, and the fat one turned to flash a toothy grin at the former Fire Lord. "Boys, I think the prisoner needs a reminder about _respect_."

Ozai hardened his features and maintained a defiant glare…and made a silent promise to himself not to scream the way Zuko had when he had taught that all important lesson to his son those many years ago.

* * *

><p>He lay in the shade of the billowing willow-ash tree that had been in the garden since before his grandfather Sozin's reign, blinking lazily. Golden eyes flicked upward for a moment, to gaze at the frothy white clouds overhead. Green grass, lush against his fingertips, tickled his cheek and made for a comfortable pallet. The gentle swish of the pond's crystal waters lapping upon the bank as turtleducks swam to and fro must have lulled him to sleep. He looked to his side, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the warm sunlight—and caught his breath when he noted the way it washed over the slender figure of the woman seated next to him.<p>

"Did you have a good dream, my Prince?" She purred, her perfect lips parting ever so slightly as a smile hinted at their edges.

"Ursa?" He asked, disbelief soaking his words.

The young woman smiled, then, a full and elegant expression on her lovely face. The image made something flutter in the pit of his stomach, and suddenly Ozai felt a pang in his chest. Her laughter was sweet, and as she brought up a dainty hand to politely hide her mirth Ozai noted that the ring she wore was turned to indicate her betrothal, but not yet marriage. _ I put that ring on your finger here, in this garden. Beneath this tree…But that was years ago. Where _am_ I?_

Ozai tried to sit up, but his body would not heed his commands; his limbs dead weight where they lay. "You aren't really here…_This_ is a dream…"

The gentle face that had looked upon him only a moment ago turned suddenly severe. The young woman's honey-colored eyes burned, narrowing to slits. "You lied to me." She accused, her words dripping venom. "You betrayed me…Our children…"

The acid charges seared his mind as she spoke them. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no sound would come. It was true. All of it. Shaking his head, he looked away—even if she was a dream, he could not bear to look her in the eyes just then.

Slowly, deliberately, she placed a hand on his chest. He could not move, but even if his body were his to control he wouldn't have. Her voice was a whisper once more. "Ozai. Does it burn?"

"What?" he managed to croak, his gaze hurrying back to Ursa's pale face.

"Does it _BURN_?" she shrieked.

Suddenly, white hot flames consumed him.

* * *

><p>Ozai awoke, screaming her name.<p>

"Whoa, calm down! You're going to be alright…" Ming chided, holding her hands up in a conciliatory gesture. "It's just me. Now lie back down so I can finish."

Eyes wide as he tried desperately to gather his wits about him, the prisoner did as he was instructed. He was in his cell, naked from the waist up, lying on the familiar cot against the back wall. Ming knelt beside him, a jar of something pungent in one hand. The other was smearing its contents on his bare chest.

That's when he noticed the searing pain. Tilting his chin down he managed to get a glimpse of the blistering burn mark—the size of a man's hand, he noted—that now marred his pectoral region. Ozai gritted his teeth, letting his head fall back against the cot once more.

"It's pretty bad," Ming explained casually, not taking her eyes off of the task at hand, "I'm sure it's going to leave a nasty scar, but this salve should help the healing along." Her hand disappeared inside the jar, and emerged with another finger-full of the putrid gel. "You really shouldn't have provoked him that way. All things considered, you're lucky they went easy on you."

"Lucky…right…" he managed, turning his head to look past the bars at the external door. "Remind me to thank them next time they hold me down and brand me with a flaming fist."

The guardswoman took a deep breath, wiping the excess salve from her fingers onto the rim of the jar before proffering some bandages from a small box to her side. "I mean it." Her words were gentle, yet firm. "You should mind your manners and do as you're told. Show a little respect."

Ozai couldn't help it. A wry laugh escaped him.

Ming just shook her head, 'tsk'ing softly as she finished tying off his bandages. "There are fresh clothes for you by the washbasin. Get yourself cleaned up." She stood and exited the internal cell, locking the gate behind her. "The Fire Lord should be arriving any minute now."

* * *

><p>Sitting on his cot, elbows on his knees and head cradled in his hands, Ozai ground his teeth and groaned in frustration. He was shaken, and in a great deal of pain. It had been perhaps twenty minutes since Ming had left him, yet he had not moved from this spot. His clean change of clothes lay untouched on the other side of his cell, and although his tongue was dry as sandpaper in his mouth he couldn't muster the energy to cross the short distance to the basin of water. Absently, he fingered the knot of the bandage around his chest and wondered how much more it would have hurt on his face. His thoughts shifted to Zuko—he would be here soon, Ming had said<em>. Why did this have to happen today?<em> With shaking hands, he reached under his cot and withdrew his soiled shirt. With a great deal of effort and discomfort, he managed to slip it over his head and pull it gingerly over the bandages without rustling them too much.

The door to his cell creaked open just then, and for an instant the acrid scent of the salve was overwhelmed by the scent of ash and seawater. The lantern on the wall flared to life, and Ozai's eyes quickly widened as not one, but two figures stepped into the room.

"So this is it?" A feminine voice asked, and the young woman to whom it belonged stalked forward. Resting her hands on her hips, she narrowed her brilliant blue eyes and glared at him. A tangle of chestnut hair hung clear down to her waist, brushing against two bloated satchels that hung at her belt.

Ozai cocked his head curiously at the girl, trying his best to ignore the searing pain in his chest and comb through his memories—yet he could not remember ever having met this person before. Wincing at the effort, he instead looked past the young woman at the more familiar form of his son. Zuko was pushing the door closed behind them with his foot; both hands supporting a tray that carried a cast iron teapot and three cups.

"I told you, it's standard." The young Fire Lord replied, sounding weary of the conversation already. "You worry too much…He can't even bend." He approached the bars of the cell and knelt, setting the tray before him and shifting his attention to Ozai.

"I just think it's a little dangerous." The girl snapped back, still glaring veritable daggers. "Would it really hurt to have a few more guards?"

Zuko sighed, resignedly. "No, that's probably something I can manage. But for now, will you just sit down? I'm the Fire Lord, and you're a master waterbender…I think we've got it covered."

Ozai said nothing, though the hairs on the back of his neck bristled as he grasped the nature of their conversation. He watched as the girl in blue—a waterbender, apparently—moved with a fluidity and grace that was surely a reflection of her element to kneel beside his son. She was a pretty thing, in that exotic way the barbarians tended to be, and looked perhaps Azula's age. Before his defeat at the hands of the Avatar he had been told that the boy's waterbending teacher was little more than a child herself. Ozai stood, his breath hitching in his throat as the movement caused pain to shoot through his flesh, and instinctively clutched at the bandaged wound. With great difficulty he dropped to his knees across from where Zuko and the girl sat, stubbornly gritting his teeth to keep from uttering a cry or complaint. He looked the young man in the eyes, but remained silent, waiting.

A look of concern flitted over Zuko's features, but disappeared as the young woman placed a hand on his shoulder. "Let's just get this over with." She whispered, and the young Fire Lord nodded. If he didn't know better, Ozai might have sworn the girl was afraid of him.

"Father, this is Katara of the Southern Water Tribe. She and I worked together to train Aang and…well-and to bring you and Azula down." He poured the tea as he spoke, heating the pot with his hands to bring the water back up to temperature. Steam rose in little wisps from the three cups, and Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. "Overdid it a little…I'm still not as good as Uncle…" Shaking his head caused a few errant strands of hair to fall into his eyes and over his scarred face. "Anyway," he continued, setting the teacups out in front of Katara, Ozai, and himself, "I'm not really sure how to tell you this…"

For a moment the pain he had been gritting through subsided, and Ozai almost laughed. Nervous boy, pretty girl, come to talk over tea…of course. "You've come to tell me I shall be a grandfather?"

"WHAT?" The waterbender exclaimed, equal parts fury and embarrassment as she fumbled to right her overturned teacup.

Zuko's entire face seemed to have turned the same color red as his scar, and the young man sat slack jawed for a long moment—eyes darting back and forth between his sputtering companion and his father. "Um…no…"

"Seriously, you people…ugh! It must run in the family!" Katara threw her hands in the air, clearly flustered.

Ozai was unperturbed by the chastisement, and managed to draw his eyes away from the young woman's dramatic display to raise a questioning brow at his rosy-cheeked son. His burn was throbbing again, and he didn't know how long he would be able to put up his façade of indifference.

"It's Azula." Zuko explained at last. "She's…very sick." The waterbender folded her arms over her chest and muttered something under her breath. Tossing her a reproachful glance, he elaborated further, "Her mind is broken. She's completely insane." The young man reached for his teacup and lifted it to his lips, taking an exploratory sip before lowering it in his hands to his lap. "The palace physicians have done what they can for her, but it's not helping. She's getting worse. That's why I've asked Katara to come here…She's a healer. There's no guarantee Azula will get better, but we're trying. I just—I just thought you should know."

Katara's expression had mellowed, and one of her hands had found it's way to Zuko's shoulder once more. She looked as though she wanted to say something, but she kept her lips drawn in a terse line and settled for silence.

Ozai felt his thighs sting where his nails were digging into them through the thin fabric of his pants. Ursa's voice echoed in his head, _"Our children…" _she was felt a stab of pain in his chest, but it was different than the ache from his burn. Deeper. "She was weak." He lied, willing his voice to carry a hint of nonchalance.

"She's your _daughter_…" Katara growled, and for a second Ozai was taken aback by her fierceness.

"She asks for you." Zuko said quietly, peering down into the shallows of his tea. "I thought…perhaps, one day I would bring her to see you."

Ozai was certain he would have been breathing fire if he'd still had the ability. "Is that all?" He managed through still gritted teeth. The room felt stagnant; stiflingly so. A wave of nausea rolled over him, and any notion he'd had of tasting the tea was gone.

"No." The young man replied, somewhere between anger and resignation. "It isn't."

"Zuko, I still don't think this is a good idea—Aang wouldn't like it. " Katara interjected. She bit her lip as Zuko turned what could only be described as an offended look at her.

"Well Aang isn't here." The young Fire Lord responded in a hushed voice. Turning his attention once again toward his father, he continued, nervously swirling the tea in the bottom of his cup. "I've been thinking a lot about our talk. It took a lot for me to come to you, of all people, and I half expected that you'd only gloat and tell me what a failure I've been to my Nation. But you didn't. You said you understood….and it occurred to me that maybe you _do_. So I went back through years of treasury logs, meeting documents and placement files that you had compiled about the colonies. When Fire Lord Azulon withdrew the colony in Hirai, you went on record as having opposed the decision…and four years later, when you assumed the throne, one of your first acts as Fire Lord was to restore that colony. So I want you to tell me something. Why?"

Somewhat taken aback by the blunt question, the prisoner faltered for a time before shaking his head. It hadn't been accusatory, simply curious. "I don't know." He answered honestly, for lack of a better lie. The nerves on his chest, torso, and even out to his arms were screaming in agony. Despite his best efforts he winced visibly.

"It's because the problems were the same." The younger man said, his tone somewhat triumphant. "The colonists didn't want to leave, and when they were forced to, things just got worse." He glanced meaningfully at Katara, who appeared torn as she listened to the discussion. "So you sent them home."

Here he was listening as his son was playing right into his hands, practically begging to be manipulated. Yet he could barely focus. Hardly think at all. "Yes." He managed, wiping at his brow with the back of his hand. It felt hotter than the tea.

"Zuko…" The young woman said, and was nodding in Ozai's direction with a strangely worried expression.

"Guards!" he heard his son cry. And then everything went dark.

* * *

><p>AN: At last! I really struggled with the last part of this chapter—and honestly, I'm still not 100% happy with it—but after a week of boggling over it I just decided to plow ahead. I hope it's not too difficult to digest.

There were a few comments and private messages regarding whether or not this story is intended to be part of "The Promise: Part 1" universe-and it's most definitely not. I haven't read "The Promise" yet (though I am expecting it from Amazon any day now…), and while I do have a vague notion of what the plot entails it really had never occurred to me that "Conversations with Ozai" would have much more in common than the fact that Zuko goes to speak with his father at some point.

To the reviewers: Thank you again for all of your comments and suggestions! I love reading them, and I truly appreciate the time you have taken to read and share your thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 4: Jerk(y)**

There were voices; garbled and disjointed as he faded in and out of consciousness. Some sounded familiar, if only vaguely so. He recognized Zuko's rasping tenor. And the waterbending girl who had come with the new Fire Lord to his prison cell. And there were others-Guards? Physicians? He didn't know, and didn't care. Once he tried to open his eyes, but the world spun, and he plunged into darkness once again.

The voices shouted, and they whispered in hushed tones. He heard his name. Shouting again-so much shouting.

At some point he felt his body being lifted by pairs of rough hands. There was softness, too. And the gentle sway of a cradle...or palanquin? Sleeping and waking swirled together in his consciousness, and he was unclear as to whether hours had passed, or days. Dreams flitted through his mind. Or perhaps they were hallucinations. He heard himself call out for Ursa a number of times, though whether his voice had actually spoken her name or he had only dreamed it, he couldn't begin to guess.

Someone poured something down his throat, and he awoke long enough to cough and sputter before his eyes closed again. He was freezing, yet his body was slick with sweat. He lay upon something soft and plush, that smelled of cloves and spice and _clean_-most certainly not his prison cot-but his perspiration had soaked it through. He reflected on the possibility that he was dying. And perhaps it was the fever, but that notion did not upset him so much as he thought it would.

* * *

><p>"So, yeah. My watch. Yep. Just you and me, jerk. Don't try anything..."<p>

A rustling of clothes. Something cold prodded his cheek.

"Huh. Well I guess it's not like you're gonna be much trouble right now. But still, me and Boomerang, we'll kick your butt. It'd be all like _POW! Ka-CHA!_" The speaker sniffed, clearing his throat. "So...Katara says I'm supposed to talk to you. Psh-Not like you can hear me, anyway. And besides, what in the name of Koh am I supposed to talk about? The weather?"

Footsteps retreating. The sound of a chair groaning under the weight of a sitting form.

"Jerk. Loser. Asshole. Ugh...This is so boring. Between you and me, it would make things a whole lot less complicated if you would just die. So, you know, if you want to go ahead and do that..."

Tap, tap, tap. An anxious boot kicked against the leg of the chair.

"Whatever. Okay. I kinda think it was pretty noble of the Universe-karmically speaking-to do this to you. After what you did to the world, after all, it's fitting. But I guess if you die that would sort of defeat the whole purpose of Aang's kooky Avatar spirit-honkey mercy…thing. So you probably shouldn't _die_, per say, but if you just don't wake up that's cool. You're lucky my sister was there, you really _would_ be dead if it weren't for her. Not much she could do about the infection, but at least she patched your wound. Most of it, anyway. You're gonna have one doozy of a scar…I kind of wonder if she didn't leave that on purpose. I don't blame her, if she did. Zuko's a wreck over this, too. I'm not really sure why. I mean, the guy has more reason to hate you than anyone-but I guess under all that evil you're still his dad."

A long pause.

"How could you even do something like that to your own kid? My dad would scrape his own liver out with a whale-opus tooth before he'd ever hurt me or Katara. I just don't get it. But you know what I find even more difficult to understand? Even after you burned half his face off, kicked him out of his home and basically told him never to come back, and then tried to kill him like a gazillion times...not to mention that whole set fire to the entire world thing...Seriously, _worst dad ever_. Even after all that, he's still not ready to hate you. So here's my theory. Maybe you weren't always such a jerk? Right? He did say you guys were happy, once…"

Another pause, as though the speaker awaited a reply. It didn't come.

"Yeah. It is kind of a lame theory. But it kind of makes sense, now that I'm putting it all in the old Sokka-Logic bucket and giving it a good shake. I mean, Zuko talks about his mom like she was all kind and loving and good-Even Iroh doesn't have a bad thing to say about her—but if she was such a nice, sane person then why did she marry _you_?"

The weight in the chair shifted, and the sound of water being poured followed.

"Women are just crazy, I guess. I mean, not like Azula—she's batshit—but the _other_ kind of crazy. Like Suki. And Katara…ugh, talk about strange. There we were heading back to the South Pole to visit Dad and Gran-Gran for a few weeks, and she's all like 'oh, we can stop and see how Zuko's doing on the way', like veering a thousand miles off course to come to the Fire Nation isn't any big deal. And then, when I tell her maybe we should get going before the monsoons come, she's all 'well, I think I might be able to waterbend Azula's crazy out so let's stay another month'….And now _this_, and Zuko's all depressed over him and Aang having it out over that whole Avatar decree—and she's stuck in the middle trying to play peacemaker again. And where does that leave me? I'll tell you where it leaves me—here. As in, not on my way home. Nope, instead, I'm stuck here, chattin' with you."

Fingers drummed upon leather.

"Technically speaking, I guess I'm chatting with me, since it's not like you're even awake. I mean, it's been like three days now. I don't know how you can sleep through all the horns blaring and people shouting outside the gates—I sure can't. Those riots are getting pretty serious. Don't get me wrong, I'm still with Aang on this one, but I can see why Zuko's a little frustrated. Or a lot frustrated. Everyone's angry and hungry and he's the one who's supposed to be able to fix it. It's gotta be rough, being Fire Lord. Not that you'd know anything about that…"

Ozai groaned.

"Okay, so maybe you do."

* * *

><p>A cool hand touched his forehead. It was soft, and small. A woman's hand, he realized. "His fever's finally broken, I think." It was the waterbender. "He's through the worst of it."<p>

"Any idea when he's going to wake up?" Another voice; strained, tired, and hoarse. Zuko.

"I can't say for certain. Why don't you pull back the curtains and let some light in. It probably won't have the same effect as it would on a firebender, but the sun should still do him some good." He heard footsteps, and the rustle of heavy fabric, and then he felt it. Glorious, wonderful sunlight touched his skin. It was warm and invigorating, and its brightness made his eyelids flinch even as they remained closed.

"Katara…" Zuko's quiet voice began, but trailed off.

"Hm?" the young woman prompted. Ozai felt her hand on his forehead again, this time a wetness accompanied it and he realized she must be doing something with the water.

"It's just…Thank you."

"Zuko, you don't have to thank me for anything."

"No, I do. I want to. Not just for this. You have no idea what it means to me that you've come here, and listened to my concerns over all of this—_really listened_. Of all our friends you're the only one who has. And I'm grateful for your help." The footfalls drew closer, and the waterbender drew her hand away from his skin. A few stray droplets of the cool liquid dripped down his temples and into his hair.

"I told you, I'll talk to Aang, but I can't guarantee he's going to see things the way that you do. Re-establishing the colonies…I just don't think he's going to go for it. It would probably end up starting another war. But you're right, his decree isn't working the way he thought it would, either. I'll try to help him see that. There's got to be another answer."

"I just hope my people don't starve to death or start a complete rebellion while he's busy mulling it over." There was bitterness in the young man's voice. And something else…jealousy?

"We'll figure something out."

"We?" there were more than a few questions buried in that one.

The girl's breath hitched in her throat, and she let out a barely audible sigh. "Things are really complicated right now, Zuko." Her voice was hushed, as if she didn't want anyone else but the two of them to hear. "I don't think it's the right time for either of us to—"

"When will it ever be the right time? You can't keep living a lie forever, Katara. It's been almost a year…he's got to suspect something."

"He doesn't. He loves me, and he trusts me…he trusts _you_." Ozai heard the faint sound of stifled sniffling. "Spirits, Zuko, what are we doing?" she was crying.

"We'll figure something out…" he said softly, echoing her earlier words.

Ozai opened his eyes in time to see their lips meet.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Awkward! I gave you fair warning there would be Zutara undertones here. Also, apologies if the Sokka portion is overly rambling. I have really struggled with that section…it sounded so much better in my head. Anyway, I hope that framing this story as a chronological series was the right move. When I first envisioned it, I was thinking more along the lines of interconnected drabbles…but it sort of had a mind of its own. In any case, it seems to be moving more or less in the direction of the original plot idea that sparked this piece, so I'm going to keep rolling with it._

_Reviewers: You guys rock. I'm especially excited when I see a review from one of the authors whose stories I like to read…it's nice to hear the opinions of people whose writing I admire and respect. And speaking of opinions, I'd like yours: What other characters would you like to see making an appearance and having "Conversations with Ozai"? Moreover, I'm curious what topics you think would (or should) come up. I can't guarantee that I'll implement anything in particular, but as this story is evolving I think it would be fun to touch on the sorts of things my readers want to see. Thanks again, everyone!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 5: Chance**

The look on Zuko's face reminded Ozai of the time he had caught the young prince with his hand in Fire Lord Azulon's prized jar of fireflake cookies. It was so long ago—his son had been no more than four years old. With big shining eyes the boy had stood there dumbstruck, staring back at him like a raccoon-deer caught in a torchlight, until his mother came to the rescue. Ursa had laughed, prattling on about how adorable it was, and Ozai had let him off with only a stern word of warning. _I was too lenient._

The waterbending girl quickly wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, turning her countenance away so as to hide the faint rosiness that colored her cheeks. "I—um—I suppose I should give the two of you a few minutes to talk…" she stuttered, stepping away from the still frozen young Fire Lord. "I'll let the guards know he's awake. And the physicians…they'll want to check on him…" She hurried across the room to the door, scrambling to pull it open and slip out into the hall. She spared a quick but meaningful glance at Zuko, who opened his mouth as if to beg for her not to leave, but thought better of it. The door closed behind her, leaving father and son alone together.

"You're awake…we didn't notice…" The young man said at last, his tone somewhere between disbelief and regret. He was clothed in the formal robes of his station, and Ozai noted the way his fingers nervously worried at the finely adorned hem of his sleeve.

"Clearly." Ozai croaked caustically. His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth, and his throat was hoarse. If not for that, he might have added some quip about the compromising position in which he had just caught the young Fire Lord and the Avatar's waterbending teacher…but given everything that had transpired, he decided instead to file those thoughts away in his mind for more valuable use. Better for the boy to think that he didn't know what he'd seen and heard.

Zuko coughed softly into his fist, "I'm glad—"

"No you're not." He interrupted, the words scraping like gravel through his voice box. Pulling his eyes away from the weary form of his son, the older man took the opportunity to look about at his surroundings. Gone were the cold iron bars of his cell; the rough-hewn stone of the prison walls that had been his penitentiary for so many months. In their stead were rich woven tapestries, fine marble, and glass. His gaze lingered on the window, its heavy velvet draperies drawn aside to let marvelous rays of sunshine cascade across the vast expanse of the room. He did not recognize room in particular, but judging by the antique décor and neutral color scheme he guessed that it was one of the old diplomatic suites that had been set up for foreign dignitaries before his grandfather had started the practice of housing them in Fire Nation prisons. _The palace. I am home._ The thought was both bitter and sweet. "You brought me here to die."

Zuko shook his head, his robes rustling as he moved a few steps closer to the obscenely large bed upon which his father lay. "No, I brought you here so you _wouldn't_ die. You're welcome, by the way."

Ignoring the bite of sarcasm, Ozai raised a hand to examine his bare chest. An angry red scar spread over the central area from his collar bone to the bottom of his ribcage, his once smooth skin puckered and ridged in unnatural ways. It hurt, he realized, where the damaged flesh stretched taught against his muscles. After the Avatar had taken his bending abilities, his physical power had dwindled as well. Months of inactivity and poor diet had lessened his mass a great deal, and left him with a body he scarce recognized as his own. The horrid mark on his chest was one more facet of that transformation. "And what now? Will you send me back to rot? Let your lackeys finish what they started?"

"No."

The answer, and the conviction with which it was spoken surprised Ozai. He was weak, thirsty, hungry, and far from his most mentally acute after days of debilitating illness; but he tried his best to hide his bewilderment. It would never do to start letting Zuko get in the habit of catching him unawares. In that moment he took the time to really look at the young man. Though he was dressed the part, he was no Fire Lord—at least, not as Ozai had been. He was a child playing games in his father's clothes…literally.

"Aang insists that you are to be imprisoned for the rest of your natural life—and we both know you deserve that and so much more—but he didn't specify the terms aside from that." Zuko bit his bottom lip, pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts before slipping into a diplomatic timbre. "I've consulted my security liaisons, and in light of this incident I think it would be a mistake to send you back to the prison. Your head guard, Ming, has attested to your usually acceptable behavior, and I have it on good authority that she is a trustworthy judge. It's unorthodox, but I believe that I can keep a better handle on things if other arrangements were to be made…so I have decided to commute your sentence to supervised confinement here."

Ozai squeezed his fist, purposefully digging his fingernails into his palm just so he could feel the pain. He was sure this wasn't a dream. "I am to stay here in the palace?" he asked in the most measured tone he could muster, and half expected the younger man to laugh at the absurdity of such a misconstrued idea.

"That's right." There was no taunting in Zuko's response. "This suite is your new cell. You will have a constant armed escort, of course, and very limited access to only necessary areas…"

_By Agni, he's serious…_

"…and I will have more control this way."

"A very wise decision, my son." Ozai did not need to force his smile. _You fool. This will be easier than I thought._

"This arrangement will also make it easier for us to supervise your rehabilitation…"

His smile fell immediately, "My what?" he asked sardonically. This was the Fire Nation, wasn't it? _Since when do we 'rehabilitate'? _The notion, as he recalled it from his childhood history lessons, was one to which the Air Nomads had subscribed. He wondered, not for the first time, why the Avatar had spared his life. Was this his plan? Was this punishment supposed to be a fate worse than death?

Unfazed, Zuko continued as if his father had not spoken a word, "…and for you to begin working off your debts to society."

If the young Fire Lord was joking, his half-scarred face did not betray it. Ozai furrowed his brow, trying to school his own features into something other than confusion. It took him a moment to realize that Zuko was watching him; studying his reaction.

"Uncle always says not to give up without a fight." The young man said softly. "I haven't given up on you."

Ozai stared at the horrible disfigurement on his son's face, the narrow golden eye forever melted into a scowl. His right hand clenched at his side, momentarily taking on the form that he had once used to blast a column of flame across the face of a thirteen year old boy. And for perhaps the first time since that day, he wondered if he would have been so harsh if Ursa had been there.

* * *

><p>It took some measure of willpower to stand, unsupported, and make his way across the room. He relished the shocks that went up his legs as his bare feet padded against the cool, smooth marble floors. The loose silk robe that was draped over his shoulders whispered in his wake, and slid across his skin as he raised his arms to lay his hands against the delicate glass panel of the balcony door. He could feel the sun's heat radiating in to the room from the outside.<p>

Outside. There it was, separated from him by nothing more than a thin glass door. Beyond the barrier was one of the palace's many elegantly manicured garden courtyards. Soft green grass, lush fruit trees, and sweet smelling flowers surrounded a small dragon fountain, its open mouth spewing a thin jet of water upward into the clear blue sky. It had been nearly a year since he had been locked away inside the dark stone prison; since he had last stood under an open sky and sunlight. He leaned his forehead against the glass, eyes glued to the image before him that he had begun to worry he would never see again. _Freedom…No. Not yet. A golden cage is still a cage._

"It's good to see you're up and about."

Ozai whipped around, wincing and hissing through clenched teeth as the sudden movement tugged the sensitive new scar tissue awkwardly. He was surprised to see Ming, standing there in her familiar guards armor, holding a tray of broth and rice. "Why are you here?" he demanded, and turned to face her fully.

She smiled, and continued on her course toward a small sitting area in the corner of the room. Not bothering to answer the question immediately, she set the tray of food down upon the low table, and pulled one of the plush chairs over. "Time for lunch." Nodding meaningfully toward the seat, she placed a hand on her hip and raised a brow at him. "Well? Come on. It's been days since you've had a hot meal…you must be famished."

He glared at her, frowning as his stomach growled in response to the offered food's bland yet tempting aroma. "Why are you here?" he asked again, somewhat less forcefully.

"This is my post." Ming responded matter-of-factly. "Fire Lord Zuko promoted me—you're my only charge, now. And since you're here, so am I." She grinned, then, and looked around the room appraisingly. "My working conditions seem to have improved…"

"How fortunate for us both." Ozai observed dryly, and started over toward the woman. As much as he would have liked to exercise what little power he had in the form of contrary behavior, she was right…he _was_ starving. She stepped aside to give him access to the chair, and he carefully lowered himself to sit.

"Master Katara sure worked a miracle on you." Ming commented absently, shuffling back and forth around the room as her charge busied himself inhaling his food.

Again with that waterbender. He found himself picturing her, remembering the cool sensation her hands on his flesh as she had healed him. His mind wandered once more to the image that had greeted him upon his awakening; her blue eyes swimming in tears as she had kissed Zuko. The shock, the _fear_, on both their faces. They hadn't simply been embarrassed. They had been _caught_. He smiled to himself, and took another swallow of rice.

"The head physician at the prison was pretty sure you weren't going to make it. Agni, I wasn't sure myself for a while there—That you're sitting here whole is remarkable. The Spirits must have a plan for you. They weren't ready for you to join them yet."

Ozai paused mid-bite to scoff. "They're afraid I'll take over."

The guardswoman put her hands on her hips and stalked back over; boots clicking loudly upon the marble as she passed. "Were you always like this?"

It was a strange question. The prisoner looked up from his near empty bowl, and raised a brow. "What do you mean?"

Mind stood a few feet away from where he sat, eyeing him thoughtfully. "Irreverent. Arrogant. Ungrateful…"

Ozai scowled. He tolerated Ming, perhaps even enjoyed her company sometimes, but if he could have in that moment he might have shot a bolt of lightning between her eyes. "You insult me."

"No." she shook her head. "What was it that made you like this?"

"Like this?" he hissed, spreading his arms wide so that the robe he wore fell slightly open to reveal his fresh scar. "A King turned prisoner? A warrior turned invalid? The greatest Firebender in the world turned to a powerless husk?" His voice had risen along with his anger, and he was almost shouting. "This? The Avatar took everything from me! He, and my traitorous son took everything I had… And the coward wouldn't even _kill_ me! _He_ made me into _this_…"

"He gave you another chance." She interrupted, not unkindly. "Maybe you should use it."

"Oh, believe me, I intend to."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Wow, I never realized how frustrating and difficult it is to tell a complete story from only one point of view. It's silly, honestly, because it's a self-imposed challenge, but I went into this only intending to have a Zuko POV in the prologue and epilogue, with all the rest being Ozai. Maybe I should have started with something a little easier for my first story…_

_Anyway, I have gotten a few comments and PMs about the implications in this story that Ozai might not be pure 100% evil. I'm glad you got that impression, because really that's what I've been going for. To those who disagree, let me explain—While Ozai 's backstory is not fleshed out with anywhere near the attention that is paid the main characters in the series, there are a few little details that we see on screen which lead me to believe there's more to it than just black and white. First, according to Zuko himself, their family was once happy. Then, when Zuko reminisces about his childhood summers spent on Ember Island, Azula dismisses the subject saying it is depressing (which I take to mean that things went from good to bad at some point). In one of Zuko's flashbacks, Ursa is seen with a smile on her face standing next to a faceless someone who looks a lot like Ozai. In another flashback, he also remembers having his father's hand on his shoulder…And the one that always sticks in my mind regarding Ozai is Zuko's memory of the morning that he awakens to find his mother missing. He immediately runs to the Turtleduck Pond, and finds Ozai standing there, pensively staring out over the water. To me, that image suggests at some level that he cared she was gone, or at the very least was bothered by the events that had just taken place. Don't get me wrong…the guy is a total bastard for what he did to Zuko, and eventually what he attempted to do to the world, but putting those aforementioned tidbits together I feel there is enough evidence there to support my theory that, as Sokka put it in my last chapter, maybe he wasn't always such a jerk. He probably wasn't ever a nice guy, but at one point, Ozai was a different man. So that's my justification…take it for what it's worth!_

_Reveiwers: Thank you SO much for the positive feedback! It seems like the last chapter went over really well despite my concerns. Sokka was so much fun to write (he'll be back next chapter, btw), and I'm glad that you guys feel I was able to keep him in character._

_I am slowly figuring out this whole creative writing thing, but to be honest it is sort of a struggle because I don't have an awful lot of time to dedicate to it. I have been trying to give myself a half hour a day to focus on this, which has ended up making for a rough update schedule of about once a week. I hope to be able to stick to that until this story is finished._


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6: Fine**

Hours had passed since Ming had taken up the dishes from his evening meal, and darkness had long since fallen over the patches of sky he could see from his small balcony. His hands gripped the delicately crafted wrought iron railing, holding him steady as he peered around the garden courtyard from his only vantage point. Tiny flames danced within the bellies of elegantly crafted lanterns which were placed all around, lighting the area well despite the sun's absence. Every flicker felt like a punch to the gut; reminding the prisoner of that which he had lost. Zuko may have been taking his chances allowing him to stay in the palace; but much to Ozai's current chagrin, his son was not a complete moron. Armed guards, each of them wearing the brass marking them firebenders, stood strategically placed around the enclosure; carefully poised to defend what exit points had not been bricked in. At the foot of the marble staircase that led from his balcony to the garden below two of them were stationed—they watched their former Fire Lord with a mixture of stoic duty and poorly veiled curiosity. He couldn't blame them, really.

If he looked out toward the top of the palace walls he could make out the ruddy orange glow of large fires in the distance. Trails of smoke wafted upward, partially obscuring the moon and stars in that direction. East of the harbor, he realized once he took the time to gain his bearings. That's where Ming had said the colonial refugee camps were set up. Every few moments he could hear a cannon fire, or the roar of an angry crowd. The cacophonous din had been steadily growing louder as the evening wore on.

"What is the raucous about?" he absently asked one of the guards.

The man regarded him oddly from his station at the base of the balcony steps, perhaps surprised that the prisoner—a former Fire Lord, no less—would deign to speak to him so casually. "Riots. They've been at it every night for weeks now…" he trailed off as another booming explosion cut through the air.

Ozai frowned, wincing as the screech of the crowd assaulted his ears. "Over what?" he couldn't help but ask.

"Food." A familiar voice answered from behind him, and the prisoner turned around to watch as Zuko, bedecked in all his Fire Lord finery, crossed through the suite and out onto the balcony to stand beside him. "And freedom." His tone was distressed, though Ozai could tell that his son was attempting to put up a strong façade. He was doing a fairly poor job of it.

"Nothing your _friend_ the Avatar can't handle, I'm sure." He did not miss the way that Zuko stiffened at his words, and decided to press the advantage. "Why, he's probably already hard at work."

"You don't know what you're talking about. Aang wants peace as much as I do…"

"Oh, really? And displacing hundreds of thousands of Fire Nation citizens so that those Earth Kingdom ingrates may have back a few tracts of land that they haven't used in a century anyway is the best solution your almighty one could imagine?" He found himself growing angrier with every word, and for a moment he might have thought himself the Fire Lord once more, lecturing some boneheaded minister or official.

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose, shuddering as another cannon fired in the distance. "Look, I didn't say I agreed with his solution. But…" he took a deep breath, and leaned forward to rest his elbows on the railing. "…But this is how we've made peace."

Ozai snorted, and without thinking leaned forward to inadvertently imitate his son's mannerism. Another wave of angry shouting erupted beyond the palace walls, and two more explosions followed. He spared the young man a sidelong glance. "Some peace."

Zuko did not argue.

* * *

><p>Ozai lay upon the down mattress, the luxuriously soft blankets pulled up to cover his chest despite the balmy night air. He had bathed and dressed in loose sleeping pants, crawling into the obscenely large bed and stretching out as he had once become accustomed to before the aftermath of Sozin's Comet robbed him such simple pleasures. It must be past midnight, he was certain, and yet still sleep would not come; though it wasn't for lack of exhaustion. <em>It's all this bloody noise.<em> He cursed inwardly and rolled to his side, pulling his pillow around his head to cover his ear.

The riots were still raging on, though with the balcony door closed and curtains drawn the pandemonium was almost possible to ignore. But not the ungodly shrieking that was coming from across the hall. That, he noted with disdain, had started up hours ago and was not showing any signs of stopping. When he could take it no more he had banged on the door to his suite and demanded that the four guards in the hall put the dying moose-lion (or whatever it was) out of its misery. They had ignored him, of course.

The creature cried hysterically, screamed, and threw itself against the wall. Incessantly. Perhaps it was toppling furniture, or trying to claw itself to freedom. Ozai groaned, and pulled another pillow onto his head. If nothing else, his prison cell had certainly been quieter.

There was another spine tingling shriek. That was the last straw. He flung the blankets off and stormed over to the door again, yanking it open to glare at the guards.

"Shut that thing up…or give me a knife and let me slay it myself!" the former Fire Lord growled, pushing his long hair out of his bloodshot eyes.

The guardsman in charge only fixed him with a withering gaze. "Go back to bed."

Suddenly the noise from across the hall ceased. The guards exchanged nervous glances, and Ozai allowed a self-satisfied grin to grace his features before he turned to head back into his room. And that's when he heard it…a faint muffled sound from beyond the closed door, spoken with a tear strained voice. "Daddy?"

Ozai felt himself stiffen. "No…" he whispered, and had to reach out a hand to steady himself against the doorframe. _No…It can't be…_ He started to turn again, to rush out into the hallway, but the guards were already slamming his door closed behind him. He leaned his back against the wall and slowly slid down, pulling his knees to his chest_. I am imagining things. She would never be so weak. My ears were playing tricks._ The heaviness in his chest and the moisture that pricked his eyes were strange sensations. He was only tired, that was all.

Yes, that was it.

It was morning when Ming nudged him awake. "Hey," she said with soft smile, "I didn't think you'd miss sleeping on the floor. Riots keep you awake?"

Ozai glanced up groggily at her, his red rimmed eyes puffy and dark, and nodded.

* * *

><p>"I wish to speak with the Fire Lord." He muttered, gritting his teeth as he spoke Zuko's title…<em>his<em> title.

The guards at his door exchanged questioning glances, whispering quietly amongst themselves before their commanding officer turned back to Ozai and looked him over with some measure of scrutiny. "The Fire Lord will visit you when, and _if_, he chooses. Get back in your room."

Ozai folded his arms over his chest, leveling what might once have been a murderous glare on the guard. He had bathed, dressed, and groomed himself, but the absolute misery of the night before had left him with dark circles beneath his eyes and painfully little patience. "Escort me, then." He spat, sizing up the man and his three comrades. They had surely been hand-picked for their station, no doubt chosen for their firebending prowess and unfailing loyalty to the young Fire Lord. Still, if he hadn't had his ability to command fire stolen from him, dispatching of the lot of them would have been child's play. Glancing down at the sword hilt at the guard's hip, Ozai found himself regretting that he had never bothered to study the arts of weaponry beyond the basics that were required in his time at the Royal Academy. "You _can_ do that, can't you? Unless you don't think the four of you can handle an unarmed non-bender?"

The look on the guard's face made it clear that he knew the prisoner was goading him, but he did seem to be mulling it over. "Fine," he replied at last, "but if you try anything I'll melt your feet to the floor."

"Spare me." He rolled his eyes and stepped fully out into the hallway, raising his arms so that one of the guards could inspect him. It was eerily silent, and he could not help his gaze from wandering to the door across the way.

"He's got nothing." The young guard confirmed after giving the prisoner a thorough pat down.

The commander nodded, and gave Ozai a little shove in the direction of the Fire Lord's wing of the palace. They walked the long hallways in silence, two guards flanking him and two following, until at last they came to the ornate door of the Fire Lord's private chambers. "Go on. Knock." The guard behind him ordered.

Ozai raised a hand intending to do so, but paused when he heard raised voices within. Without warning, the door swung inward and a disheveled young woman in blue ran full force into him, nearly toppling him over backwards as she scrambled to gain her footing. He took a step back to stop his own fall, and instinctively reached out to grasp the girl's shoulders to steady her.

"Spirits, I'm so sorry!" she blurted, righting herself as she hurried to pull the gaping front of her shirt closed. Only then did she look up, her breath hitching in her throat as she realized whom she had just about tackled.

Ozai wasted no time putting his hands in the air as the guards descended upon him.

"Katara! What's going on?" Zuko's worried voice rasped as he came running out upon hearing the commotion. His eyes narrowed accusingly as he took in the scene before him, and he looked to the commanding guard for answers.

"My Lord!" the guard replied respectfully, bowing briefly before standing straight and tall once more. "Apologies for the intrusion—"

"Zuko, everything's fine." Katara cut in, somewhat more tersely than usual. There was a faint blush upon her cheeks, and she was trying in vain to smooth down her tangled hair.

"Did he hurt you?" Zuko demanded, his eyes darting back and forth between the waterbender and his father.

The young woman sniffed, and folded her arms over her chest defensively. "I said I'm fine." She snapped, and gave him a pointed look that clearly read 'now drop it'.

The young Fire Lord took a deep breath, and looked once more to the commander. "Let him up."

Hoisting Ozai back to his feet, the other guards each took a step back and bowed.

"Why are you here?" Zuko asked; much of his earlier apprehension diminished.

Ozai took a moment to straighten out his clothes, patting a bit of dust from his shirt and pushing his hair back over his shoulders. "I need to speak with you."

"About what?"

"Your sister."

Zuko bit his bottom lip and glanced over at Katara thoughtfully before nodding. "Alright. I'll plan to take my dinner with you this evening and we can discuss…what you wanted to talk about. Right now I'm late for a meeting." The young man nodded at the guards to escort the prisoner back to his suite, and turned to head in the direction of the audience chamber. It became glaringly apparent that his robes were on backwards, and half of his hastily tied topknot was already beginning to fall loose.

Katara flushed and brought a hand to her mouth as she noticed and quickly rushed after him, reaching up to fix his hair as they walked.

Ozai smirked knowingly.

* * *

><p>Ming had brought him a few dozen scrolls from the palace library. Most of them were works of fiction and poetry-useless pursuits that Iroh and Ursa had always tended toward-but the guardswoman had somehow managed to accidentally include a section from some larger work on the political history of Kyoshi Island and he was busy pouring over that when he heard a knock at his door.<p>

"Oh, that must be your therapist." Ming mused absently from her seat by the window. "Master Katara said he would be coming by to speak with you this afternoon." She stood and crossed the room to open the door, allowing a very odd looking young man to enter.

Ozai quirked an eyebrow, setting his scroll aside, and attempted to take in the bizarre image before him. The 'Therapist' appeared to be little more than a teenager. He was clad in Fire Nation red, but his familiar looking face was dark of complexion and offset with two bright blue eyes. And then there was the fake beard...

"What's up, Jerk?" The young man asked cheerfully, dawdling across the room to seat himself unbidden in the chair across from the prisoner.

The former Fire Lord wasn't sure whether he should laugh or scowl. He did recognize this boy, however-or rather, his voice. "Who are you?"

"Fire. Dr. Wang Fire." he flourished, making a point of stroking his fake beard thoughtfully.

That decided it. Ozai allowed himself a dark chuckle. "This is my son's idea of a joke?"

The young man actually looked offended. "Okay, fine...My name's Sokka. I'm Katara's brother-you've met her, right? I just thought the disguise would help you to take this more seriously."

"Take what seriously?" he started to ask, but before giving the boy a chance to answer he demanded roughly, "And take off that ridiculous beard!"

Sokka scoffed. "Dude, you're one to talk."

Ozai involuntarily reached up to stroke his long goatee before glancing toward the door to find Ming doubled over attempting to stifle her laughter in her hand. He glared at her.

The boy waited patiently for the prisoner to return his attention to him; his fingers deftly tugging the fake beard loose and peeling it off his chin to reveal a youthful face. "Really, though, I'm here to talk. This is part of your rehabilitation-Zuko thinks it's very important." he explained, and gestured toward Ming to leave. "Can you wait outside? I've got this."

The guardswoman collected herself and bowed, a grin still tugging at her lips as she slipped out the door and closed it behind her.

The former Fire Lord took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he could already tell was going to be a trying discussion, and graced the boy before him with a disdainful frown. "What is it that you want from me, Sokka?"

"Is there anything troubling you?"

"No. You can leave now."

Sokka tapped his chin with his index finger, nodding as if in silent agreement with something. "I see, I see...Well, let's try something different." He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands before him. "Tell me about your childhood."

Ozai leaned back in his chair, folding his arms defiantly over his chest. "This serves no purpose except to annoy me, boy."

Unperturbed, the young man asked, "You don't like to talk about it, huh?"

"No."

"I had kind of a rough childhood, too." Sokka confided sympathetically. "I mean, it wasn't bad enough that I'd go abusing my own kids or burning the world to ash or anything, but it wasn't easy for me, you know? My mom-she was killed by Fire Nation soldiers...your soldiers...And then my Dad had to leave to go and fight in the war. It was hard; not knowing if we would ever see him again." he paused to look pointedly at Ozai.

The older man was looking down at the fists clenched in his lap. He wasn't sure why, but he finally gave in and told the boy what he wanted to hear. "When my father went off to war, I _prayed_I would never see him again."

"How about your mom?"

"Dead. She took her own life when I was barely old enough to remember...she was pathetic. Weak."

A disturbed look crossed the Water Tribe boy's face, but he blinked it away. "Your brother, Iroh? Where was he?"

Ozai scowled, clenching his teeth. "Off doing my father's bidding. He's nearly twenty years my senior-we hardly shared a childhood."

"Wow." Sokka allowed himself to whisper. "Didn't you have any happy times as a kid?"

Surprising himself, the prisoner actually permitted himself to consider the question. "I suppose...yes. The Royal Family owns a homestead on Ember Island. Occasionally, my caretakers used to take me there. It was enjoyable."

"Yeah, I've been there. That place is pretty sweet..."

Ozai turned a pair of burning golden eyes upon the young man. "You've been to my beach house?"

Realizing the error of his slip, Sokka stammered a bit, hand waving nonchalance. "Er...yeah. We kind of crashed there for a few weeks before the comet." He took note of the former Fire Lord's disgruntlement over his admission, and quickly added, "Zuko had it renovated, though, so all the damage we did should be fixed."

If he could have breathed fire at that very moment, Ozai was fairly certain he would have set the room on fire.

Obviously seeing that his assurances were having the opposite effect on his patient, the Water Tribesman attempted to redirect the subject. "He said you used to take nice vacations there with him and Azula, back before your wife-"

"Get out!" Ozai growled venomously.

Sensing that he had hit a nerve, Sokka quieted. He reached over to collect his beard from the table, and stood; pursing his lips and sparing a thoughtful glance at the fuming man.

The door cracked open, and Ming tentatively stuck her head in to look at the two men. "Everything alright in here?" she asked, though her tone made clear that she already knew the answer to the question.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. We're finished for today." Sokka answered softly, and headed for the door. Stopping just before he stepped into the hallway, he turned back to look at Ozai. For a moment it looked like the boy wanted to say something more, but he decided against it. He nodded to Ming as he left; his heavy footsteps echoing down the hall as he went.

Ming furrowed her brow, glancing back to Ozai as the young man passed her.

"You okay?" she inquired gently, stepping back into the prisoner's room and closing the door behind her.

Ozai ignored her, and reached for his scroll.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Hello readers! Sorry this update is a day late...my husband surprised me with Valentine's Day plans and it pushed back my schedule a tad._

_So there were a couple of new developments this chapter-I hope that I was able to balance the heaviness with a good helping of comic relief. The Azula scene was a bit of a struggle for me. I feel like the series is sort of vague about the relationship that Ozai and Azula had as father and daughter, so maybe this is just me grasping at straws, but I think that he really did "care" for her in as much as he was capable of caring for anybody. She was everything he wanted in a child, and served him loyally until the end (with the brief exception of that lie about Zuko having killed the Avatar). While I don't think their affection would have been anything like a normal father/daughter might share, we do hear Azula refer to her father with a sort of confident familiarity throughout the series, and when Ozai speaks directly to her (for instance, when he tells her that she is the new Fire Lord in the finale) it is with a gentle authority. That's why, in my mind, he would find it upsetting to learn of her condition. They have a lot in common, really. Mental illness tends to run in the family, after all (hence my theory about Fire Lady Ilah, as well)._

_To answer a couple of questions that have popped up in reviews/PMs:_

_1. Maybe I'm not doing a very good job of it, but I've tried to establish that Zuko and Katara have been hiding a relationship of some sort since shortly prior to Sozin's Comet. Since this entire story is comprised of only what Ozai witnesses directly, we can only get that information second-hand or through their conversations with/in front of him. It bears noting that at this point in the narrative Ozai does NOT know that Katara and the Avatar are supposed to be an item (he will find that out very soon, though!). He only knows that Zuko and Katara are lovers, and that neither of them seem to want anyone else to know about it for some reason; which he of course has filed away as ammunition against his son._

_2. Zuko IS naively allowing Ozai into the palace. The premise of this story is that he feels a need to seek his father's advice and, for some perverse reason, his approval...a lifetime of mental abuse and degradation can do that sort of thing to people. Zuko has a track record of not thinking things through. That said, he is taking certain precautions, and although Katara and Sokka have both made mention in previous chapters that they aren't entirely on board with the idea, I think they do recognize that Ozai is no longer the physical threat that he once was. There's also the issue of Aang and Zuko's strained friendship at the moment, juxtaposed with Zuko's guilt over the secret he and Katara have been hiding that might be leading him to attempt a peace offering in the form of acknowledgement of Aang's "forgiveness" philosophy and the Air Nomad custom of compassionate imprisonment and rehabilitation. Also, (and maybe this is just me admitting my inexperience as an author?) the plot I have in my head required that Ozai not be locked away in his prison cell, so this is how I finagled things._

_Anyway, thank you again to all of you have have taken the time to review and share your thoughts! Also, I'm flattered that so many of you have added this story to your alerts (and even favorites!)...I hope it will continue to keep your interest, and I'd love to hear what you all think!_


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 7: Spared**

It was well past dinnertime when Zuko finally arrived. Ozai didn't look up from his scroll, or offer any sort of acknowledgement whatsoever as his son crossed the room and took the seat across from him. A servant tailed the young Fire Lord with a tray of lovely, delicious smelling morsels—Pheasant-swan roasted with cow-pig bacon and covered in tangy moon-peach glaze, sweet sticky rice with mangos and honey, spicy stir fried vegetables and a huge loaf of the dark crusty bread that was popular over in the colonies. A decorative teapot and two cups sat flanked by a pair of crystal glasses, each filled halfway full with a dark amber liquid that Ozai recognized as fine Fire-Brandy. One glance over the scroll at the smorgasbord brought his stomach to rumbling, and the man frowned as his body betrayed him. "You're late." He muttered, and for the first time bothered to raise his gaze to meet Zuko's.

"My meeting ran long." The young man replied dismissively, though he seemed to be in an unusually good mood for just having come from an arduous political session.

"Yes, that tends to happen." The prisoner conceded, at last deigning to lay his reading aside and give the young Fire Lord his full attention. He was still flustered from his earlier encounter with the Water Tribe boy, though the promise of a fine meal had already begun to assuage his troubles. Some of them, anyway. "The matter I wished to discuss—"

"We'll talk about Azula. But first I want to talk about something else." Zuko interrupted, and reached into his robe to produce a thin scroll. Leaning over the table, he held it out to his father. "Here…"

Ozai accepted the scroll warily. The seal was broken, but he thought it looked familiar. Unrolling the paper, he instantly knew why. "A letter from my brother?"

Zuko nodded, grinning, before picking up his chopsticks and beginning to deftly load his plate with the food before him. "Yes. It's to me, but I want you to read it." He said simply, and stuffed a hunk of meat into his mouth.

He scanned the elegantly written script quickly, and didn't even notice as his mouth fell open.

_My Dearest Nephew,_

_I do hope this letter finds you well. Life here in Ba Sing Se is eventful as ever, and the duties of running my tea shop are keeping me young (as are the lovely ladies here in the city!). The Jasmine Dragon has become the most popular tea spot in the Upper Ring, and with Miss Bei Fong's backing I have decided to open a second location. Perhaps if it does well I will continue to expand business…one day there might be a Jasmine Dragon on every corner!_

_Also, I received the package containing your mother's combs yesterday. By the time you find this scroll in hand, I shall already have made the rendezvous with Jun and her shirshu will be on Ursa's trail, wherever she is. It shall give me great pleasure to escort her home to you. I've no doubt it will be a joyful reunion._

_Love and Warmest Regards,_

_Uncle_

It occurred to him that he must have been lost in thought, shock, or confusion for more than a few moments, because when Zuko snatched the paper from his hands it was with the impatience of someone who had been waiting for some time. He leaned back in his chair, heart racing. _Ursa…_

"Yeah. That's what I thought." The young Fire Lord remarked, a triumphant smile splayed across his lips.

"Why are you telling me this?" Ozai asked, certain that there was no point in attempting to throw up a façade of indifference.

"Because I want you to know that my mother's whereabouts are not something you can hold over my head as leverage anymore." Was Zuko's curt response, and for a brief moment Ozai saw a flicker in his son's eyes that reminded him so very much of himself. The boy was taking pleasure in this. "That was your bargaining chip, wasn't it? Using her? Just like you used her to steal the throne—"

"I did no such thing!" he snapped, slamming his fist on the table so hard that the liquid in their glasses sloshed around and onto the serving tray.

Zuko folded his arms, settling back comfortably with a smug look on his face. "Right…" he began, the sarcasm dripping so thickly from the word that it may as well have been spoken in the negative. "So why don't you tell me what _really_ happened that night?"

They both knew that no clarification was needed as to exactly which night was in question. Drawing in a deep, measured breath that he would have once used in firebending meditation, Ozai calmly reached over and raised the Fire-Brandy to his lips. He drained the glass in one gulp, and returned it to the table before meeting Zuko's waiting gaze with a burning one of his own. "Why don't you ask your mother?"

That response was obviously along the lines of what the young Fire Lord had been expecting. He snorted derisively, and shook his head. "Oh don't you worry, I intend to. But I've always been curious what you would say. For all your faults, you never have been much of a liar." He smirked, once more bringing Ozai to mind of his own appearance. "So go on. Tell me how my mother coerced Azulon into naming you his successor."

"She didn't." Ozai answered simply, and reached for the other glass of Fire-Brandy. "He named me willingly. And then he instructed me to end you with my own hand." He swirled the spirit in his glass, brows furrowing as he watched it circle round and round. "That was his order. That was the price of the throne."

"You were going to kill me." Zuko said softly. It was no question.

"If I'd wanted to kill you I would have. Effortlessly."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" the young man asked incredulously.

Ozai shrugged. "It's the truth. Isn't that what you asked for just now?"

Zuko was silent for a moment. His hands had fallen to his lap, and he fidgeted absently with his robe—calloused fingers seeming out of place with such fine silk in their grasp. "So why didn't you?"

"He ordered it done at high noon the next day, out in the plaza where everyone could see. I had to wait until then. Somehow—I don't know, though I have my suspicions—your mother found out." He worried at his lower lip with his teeth, still watching as the dark liquid swirled in his glass. "She tried to convince me to defy him, but we both knew that as long as my father lived his will would be done, one way or another. So she took it upon herself to put a dagger in his heart."

"She did it to save me…" The boy's eyes began to well with tears, though he had the beginnings of a smile on his face.

"Yes." Ozai said bitterly, and took a sip of his drink. "She murdered the Fire Lord...and she should have paid with her life."

"You banished her." His son reminded.

"The penalty for high treason and murder is death." Ozai reminded right back.

Zuko furrowed his brow, and looked questioningly at his father. "But…you banished her?"

"It was all I could do to spare her life."

The young man nodded after a brief pause, blinking back the wetness that was still shining in his golden eyes. "Why?"

Ozai poured the rest of the Fire-Brandy down his throat and set the empty glass beside the other one before he looked once more at his son. He said nothing.

"Why didn't you execute her?" Zuko asked, clarifying his unanswered question.

Ignoring the young Fire Lord's inquiring eyes, Ozai busied himself fixing a plate. He piled the food high—since being moved to the palace the quality of his meals had improved markedly over those he had been forced to choke down in the Capital Prison, but the feast that waited before him was quite literally fit for a Fire Lord.

A long drawn out silence filled the air between them; the only sound to break it was the light clicking of chopsticks as Ozai ate his dinner. Zuko watched but did not speak, a pensive expression pulling at his pale features.

When he had eaten his fill, the prisoner set his plate aside and leaned back in his chair. "I want to see Azula." He said at last, and looked to Zuko for a response.

The young man sighed softly, perhaps in resignation that he wasn't going to get an answer to his question, or likely anything more with relation to the subject they had been discussing. "Alright." He murmured, "But you probably aren't going to like what you see."

* * *

><p>It was the understatement of the century. Zuko's somber warning played over and over in his head as the two of them stood, flanked by no less than eight armored guards, in the sparsely furnished room. The wreckage of a smashed book case littered the floor, charred tomes and scrolls lying in piles of ash where they had burned. Two physicians, cloaked in robes of white, hovered near the sides of a large four post bed. There were no sheets or blankets, Ozai noted, and the mattress had been scorched in several places. His eyes were glued to what lay upon it.<p>

A young woman with ghostly pale white skin, her dark hair shorn to her scalp, was clothed in only her undergarments. Long jagged red scrapes and scabs lined her cheeks and arms, and her blood was still crusted beneath her fingernails. Her chest rose and fell with her even breaths, though her eyes darted back and forth lazily beneath half closed eyelids.

"She had been improving, slowly, with Katara's help…" Zuko quietly disclosed as he stepped forward to lay a hand upon the girl's forearm. "We thought so, anyway. Last night she had another episode—it was bad. She had to be sedated…It's for her own good."

Ozai watched wordlessly as his son took a wet cloth from one of the physicians and began to gently clean a spot of crusted blood from her gaunt face. It was the tattered remnant of what once had been such a beautiful face. His daughter's face… _"Daddy?"…_

"Katara thinks she can heal these scratches." The young Fire Lord assured as he noticed the look of horror that had overtaken his father's countenance. "She says they're pretty easy compared to trying to heal someone's mind."

A sudden wave of nausea swept over him. He gritted his teeth; but as he once more let his eyes settle upon Azula's form it came on stronger than before. "I wish to return to my room." He ground out tersely, looking pointedly away.

The look of utter disappointment was clear in Zuko's eyes. Still, the young man nodded to the guards from his spot beside the bed, and they saluted obediently.

It was a short walk across the hall and back into his suite. Once he was inside the guards left him to himself, locking the door behind them as they resumed their posts in the hall. Ozai immediately made for the washroom, and retched until every last bit of his dinner was deposited into his chamber pot.

Later, he would tell himself that it had only been all the liquor and rich food.

* * *

><p><em>AN: I feel like the subject what really happened with Ursa on the night of Azulon's death has been done in detail so many times in far better fics than this that re-hashing specifics in the tense conversation in the first part of this chapter probably would have made for less than great reading. So it's glossed over, though I think that Ozai gave enough information for Zuko and the readers to glean what went down, and to some extent how he felt about it._

_Also, sorry there was no blatant Zutara this chapter. I've been sitting on the two scenes that did appear for a while now, and it just made sense to roll them out at this point in the plot—but they ended up being so long that I figured I'd save the other scenes for the next chapter. It should be a doozy…_

_Reviewers: Have I ever told you how excited I get when I notice that one of you has left a new comment? Seriously, it's laughable. You guys make the (sometimes frustrating) hours I've put into writing this worthwhile. Thank you, thank you, thank you!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 8: Pretty**

* * *

><p><em>AN: This one gets a little racy at parts. Although I did give it some serious thought I don't think it merits a rating change, as there are no graphic descriptions, but adult situations are strongly implied. Delicate readers be warned!_

* * *

><p>More than a week passed, and no one had come to call upon him save for Ming. She brought him meals, scrolls for reading, and occasionally some bit of news concerning the riots and other happenings within the city. He had become accustomed to her company and did not complain over the time she spent in his suite; though he would not allow himself to forget that despite her pleasant disposition she was still effectively his jailor. His relative solitude left him a great deal of time for reflection and meditation—the guards in the garden courtyard would watch absently as he sat in the sunlight and let his mind wander for hours on end. The absence of fire in his soul left a cold void in the pit of his stomach even a year later, yet the familiar act of meditation, breathing as though he still controlled the flames, and even running through the motions of the occasional kata helped to ease it somewhat.<p>

The gruesome image of Azula as she lay wasting away burdened his thoughts daily, and haunted his mind at night. The pragmatic side of him—the one that had long ruled his personality with an iron fist the way he had once ruled his nation—was convinced that she was a lost cause. It would do no good to waste concerns on her, and should he manage to escape imprisonment she would be a liability…one better left behind. Still, it troubled him. _And Ursa…_ That subject was equally consuming. He'd been taken completely by surprise when Zuko had informed him of his plan to return her to the Fire Nation. If Iroh managed to find her, Ozai found himself wondering if she would even consent to return. And if she did, to what end?

The sun burned hot overhead, bearing down upon the center of the garden mercilessly. He exhaled his last breath of the set and stood, noting the wary gazes of his guards as he did so. They stepped aside and let him pass as he made his way up the staircase to the balcony and into his suite. Ming would be in with his midday meal soon, and he preferred not to eat while slick with his own perspiration. Dropping his damp clothing onto the floor as he entered his bathing chamber, Ozai wasted no time submerging himself into the waiting tub of water. It was tepid, of course, but that actually felt good after baking in the heat for a few hours. He washed his body and hair, then dried himself and used the small (and very dull, he decided) razor he was provided to shave his face. It annoyed him in a strange way that they had even permitted him to have the thing—mostly because it reassured him of just how utterly helpless the guards now considered him.

Standing before the mirror with his towel wrapped about his lower half, the fallen ruler stared into the eyes of his reflection. A year in prison had aged him. There were lines on his face that hadn't been there before Sozin's comet; even a few gray hairs at his temples. His body mass had diminished somewhat, the poor diet and lack of training having turned his once defined muscles to useless meat beneath his skin. And then there was his mark. He raised a hand to his chest, fingers brushing the newly acquired scar tissue gingerly, running along the puckered flesh from one side to the other. The waterbender had saved his life, but had left him branded. He wondered if she was even capable of healing scars—surely if she had such power, she would have rid Zuko of his by now.

Shaking off the pointless musing, Ozai picked up his brush and began tying the crown of his hair into a topknot. As Fire Lord, and before that a Prince, he had always used the services of a steward or servant to take care of such details, but his current status afforded him neither of those things. He frowned at the image in the mirror, tugging at the lopsided mass of hair fruitlessly before giving up and tearing its binding off to try again.

"You'll never get it right that way…"

He whipped his head around to look at Ming. She stood in the doorway to his bathing chamber, leaning her shoulder against the doorframe; a hand on her hip. "How long have you been standing there?" he demanded gruffly, and returned his attention to the task at hand.

She stifled a chuckle. "Long enough. Here—" Stepping up behind him the guardswoman took the black ribbon from his hand and reached for the brush. "Let me help you."

Breathing a resigned sigh, Ozai folded his arms over his bare chest and stood still as Ming brushed his hair and tied it up into a neat, well centered topknot. He pursed his lips and nodded approvingly.

"There. Much better." She remarked, laying her hand upon his shoulder as she looked his reflection over in the mirror. A faint blush crept up her cheeks, and her touch deepened slightly. "You look very handsome."

Ozai's eyebrows shot up, and he could barely fight the tiny smile that pulled at one corner of his mouth. He felt Ming's fingertips glide gently down his back, lingering far longer than they should. Suddenly it all made sense. The kind gestures, the supportive words, the familiarity she had allowed their rapport to develop over the many long months. A gaze held too long, a touch that wasn't necessary. What they shared was most certainly not the relationship of a guard and a prisoner. The foolish woman had developed some affection for him, and he had every intention of adding that little tidbit to his growing arsenal.

"You should get dressed." She murmured softly, at last averting her eyes.

He couldn't help himself. "You don't sound very convincing."

She placed her hands on her hips and glanced over at the doorway. "Your lunch is getting cold. Master Katara and her brother are planning to come by a little later, and the laundry maids should be in with fresh linens—"

"Ming." Ozai turned to face her, a hint of amusement still playing on his features. "Are you going to hand me my pants?"

The blush upon the guardswoman's cheeks deepened to crimson as she returned her eyes to him. She said nothing, and made no move to reach for the fresh garments that lay folded behind her.

He interpreted her silence as his invitation. Two quick steps brought him up against her, and he noted with mirth that while she raised her palms against his bare chest in surprise, she did not push him away.

"I can burn you…" She breathed into his ear, "…and I will, if you try anything." Although her warning was cold, her mouth upon his jaw was hot and moist. Her lips trailed to his, her hands dropping from his chest as she reached down to fumble with the clasps of her armor. It clattered to the floor in a heap, but neither of them paid it any mind. Relieved of the bulky, form-distorting armor Ming's body was unmistakably that of a woman.

Ozai ran his hands down over the plain black clothing that made up the under layer of her uniform, feeling the contours that hid beneath. Their closeness stirred a reaction from his own body, and he was pushing her until her back was against the cool marble wall. Breaking their kiss, he brought his lips to her ear and whispered, "Now what?" He could hear her breath quicken, and felt his own pulse rushing in his veins.

She smirked and lifted her skirt, pulling loose the knot that held her underbindings in place and let them fall to her feet.

Ozai grabbed her roughly by the backs of her thighs, his fingers digging into her bare flesh, and hoisted her against the wall as he pinned her there with another kiss. His towel drifted to the floor, and he was unable to wipe the triumphant grin from his mouth as he listened to the soft moan escape his prison guard.

"You'll have visitors soon." She said matter-of-factly as they sat nibbling at the cold rice and vegetables that had been his lunch some time later.

He nodded, and watched as she finished buckling her armor back into place and smoothed her uniform over. "Mm. I'm certain their company won't be as…gratifying."

Ming flashed him a pretty smile, leaning over to gather his dishes together and pile them onto the tray. "Yes, well I've heard they have some interesting customs in the Southern Water Tribe…"

The prisoner repressed a snort, and leaned back in his chair to watch as the guardswoman walked toward the door; her hips swaying with every step. Perhaps he had never noticed the way they did that before.

"Oh…" she stopped, glancing back over her shoulder as she turned the lock and pushed the door open. "…And I'll fix your hair for you again tomorrow."

* * *

><p>"Hey, check this out!" the water tribe boy exclaimed in that irritatingly high pitched voice he used whenever he got excited, and Ozai stifled yet another groan of annoyance. "The valve has a flow reversal switch right here…it's ingenious…" he trailed off, speaking to himself as he continued to examine the inner workings of the dragon fountain in the courtyard garden attached to the prisoner's suite.<p>

"Sokka, give it a rest already…" the waterbending girl pleaded, rolling her eyes. "It's just a stupid fountain. There are dozens of them around the palace grounds." Her expression softened, and she nodded back to where Ozai sat, arms crossed and appearing none too patient, on a grassy patch beside her. "Let's just get back to this, okay?"

The young man let out an exasperated sigh, and slouched dejectedly as he padded over to seat himself in the reluctant circle next to Katara and the former Fire Lord. "Fine, fine…So how exactly is this supposed to work again?"

Ozai frowned, massaging the bridge of his nose with two fingers as he turned his eyes skyward and silently begged Agni to strike the boy dead (or at least mute). Sometimes it was very hard to understand how these idiots had managed to defeat him.

To her credit, his sister managed not to scream in frustration as she explained, for the third time, the point of the exercise. "I'm going to use my water to draw the tension out of your body and realign your Chi. Some of the healing scrolls Yugoda gave me suggest that it might help ease the discomfort you've been experiencing since Aang—Since you lost your bending." In an effort to preclude further interruptions, she gracefully swirled her wrists and called a small amount of her element to her. "Are you ready?" her sapphire gaze settled questioningly on Ozai.

"Does it matter?" he spat, glaring at the girl. She and her brother had shown up an hour ago and informed him of the specifics of this newest treatment. The waterbender swore it would help with his 'rehabilitation' (he scoffed even when he thought about that word), and the boy had noted that it was worth a try seeing as the side effects of the Avatar's new Spirit Bending power still weren't entirely understood. Still, the whole idea of therapy, rehabilitation—the notion that there was something _wrong_ with him in the first place—was nonsense he solidly rejected. And he'd said as much. But the two Southerners weren't going anywhere until he indulged their antics, so he had agreed to let them try it…once.

"Close your eyes." She ordered, not unkindly, and when he finished rolling them he did as she wished. "This might feel a little cold."

She wasn't joking. He repressed a shiver as he felt her water gloved hands press against the sides of his head. The sensation was cool, yet soothing, and he began to recall the feel of it from the days he had spent drifting in and out of consciousness when the infection had nearly claimed his life. "Are we finished?" he asked at last, and couldn't keep the brusque edge from his voice as he opened his eyes.

The water tribesman laughed. "What's the rush, Jerk? We're just getting started…"

"Sokka…" Katara scolded, "Be nice." She drew her hands and water away, its ethereal glow fading as she allowed the two globs to pool together just above her lap.

"Aw, come on sis…You're starting to sound like Aang. What's wrong, haven't seen him for a few months and you're having withdrawals?" he teased, and made the most theatrical 'kissy face' his barbaric features could muster.

The glare the young woman shot her brother was as frigid and dangerous as the ice she could wield. "Shut _up_."

The prisoner remained quiet as the siblings bantered. If they were content to prattle on to one another, he figured, then they perhaps they wouldn't continue to bother him. _And the day started off so well…_ He sighed quietly to himself.

"Don't mind her," Sokka leaned over and told him in a playful mock whisper, "She's just all aflutter 'cause her _boyfriend_ the Avatar is coming to visit in a few days."

Ozai did not miss the way the girl's dark complexion took on a reddened quality, and he decided that if she had been born a firebender instead of a waterbender, she would no doubt be spewing smoke through her lips.

"You and the Avatar?" He couldn't help but ask, his tone purposefully innocent. The former Fire Lord offered her a predatory smile. "Well, isn't that _interesting_."

"Yep." The water tribe boy chattered on inanely, completely oblivious to the silent challenge Zuko's father had just made toward his sister. He slouched into a most undignified pose as he made himself comfortable. "It'll be good to see Aang. Toph, too—his letter said he was going to swing by and pick her up on the way. Team Avatar, together again…it's too bad Suki isn't here. And hey! Maybe Iroh will even have arrived by then with Zuko's mom!"

That wiped the smile right off of Ozai's face, and it was Katara's turn to toss him a triumphant smirk. "That's right…Zuko is so excited. I can't wait to meet her."

He clenched his teeth and looked pointedly away from the pair of blue clad annoyances. The guards stationed around the courtyard seemed to be watching the spectacle with mild amusement, though they were trained enough not to let their expressions betray much besides little upturned corners of their mouths.

"Me neither. I wonder what she looks like…I mean, you'd know, wouldn't you?" the boy glanced at the prisoner, looking him over appraisingly. "Zuko takes after you—poor guy…no offence…" he flushed slightly, but it did not deter him from continuing on with his analysis. "Maybe like Azula? But older, and not so creepy?" Suddenly he broke out into laughter at some private thought—and decided it was worth sharing. "Hey, so is she _'hot'_…like, 'hot', hot? 'Cause we're in the Fire Nation? Get it?" Sokka seemed quite downtrodden when all his joke earned him was a disdainful glare from both of them.

"She's beautiful." Katara answered quietly.

"How do you know?" Sokka asked his sister, his usual goofy tone fading away to reveal something more genuine.

Ozai leveled a curious gaze upon the waterbender. After her banishment he had ordered every portrait of Ursa that was in the palace gathered and locked away in the royal vault. Azula had gone in a few years later and burned the lot of them to ashes. All except one. He smiled to himself. Ever since he had awoken to the sight of his son and this girl he had wondered just how much, and from whom they were hiding. Now was beginning to seem like the perfect opportunity to test the waters.

The girl shrugged innocently. "I've seen her portrait."

"Really? Where?" her brother prodded curiously.

"My son has long kept a small portrait of his mother at his bedside." Ozai enlightened, hoping the innocuous revelation would be enough to spur the boy on to the desired conclusion.

The color drained from Katara's lovely face.

Sokka raised a questioning brow in his sister's direction. "What were you doing in Zuko's bedroom?"

She hesitated. "Um….Sewing..."

The former Fire Lord would readily have admitted that he'd long held the preconception that non-benders were inherently weaker and more useless than those gifted with bending abilities…But as he watched the goofy look on the water tribesman's face fade to something entirely serious and calculating; his blue eyes narrowing as the gears in his head went whirling, something became very apparent to Ozai. This one was every bit as dangerous as his companions.

The young man was silent and motionless for several long moments, his gaze boring into the waterbender as she shifted uncomfortably and seemed to study the patch of grass beside her. Then he stood, without a word, and headed toward the staircase that would lead him inside.

"Sokka, where are you going?" Katara asked, a hint of desperation evident in the tremor of her voice.

The guards parted and allowed the warrior to pass, and he did not slow his gait until he stood less than a pace from the door, his back still to the two of them.

The young woman was on her feet, the water that had heeded her command moments ago dripped from her fingers to form a puddle around her boots. "Sokka…Wait…"

The boy shook his head. "I'm going to kill him." He muttered, and disappeared into the palace.

Ozai stood, dusting the grass and dirt off his clothing, and tossed a smile at the waterbender as he headed in the direction of his room. "You know, this _has_ been very therapeutic. I'm feeling better already…"

It was difficult to quell his laughter as he heard the girl's muffled sobs behind him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: So, some of the proverbial "crap" is starting to hit the fan! Should be fun next chapter._

_I'm curious if anybody saw the Ming situation coming…It's been my plan since I first started brainstorming for this story for that to happen, and I've tried throughout the earlier chapters to drop little hints and foreshadows as subtly as possible. It's a pairing I haven't seen before, and I thought it would be interesting, particularly within the context of this story. Her character wasn't given much of a chance to develop at all in the series, so while I admittedly have taken some serious liberties, I don't think it's completely out of the realm of possibility that she'd fall prey to a scoundrel._

_On another note: Sokka. Sokka is seriously one of my favorite characters of the series, not because of his usefulness in providing comic relief (although it is great), but because there is so much more to his personality than that. The guy is a genius, incredibly observant, and dangerously cunning, and I think he camouflages these abilities with his quirky behavior. I really wanted to touch on that in this chapter. It seemed like a good opportunity for Ozai to realize that the kid he once considered a buffoon is not just riding on the coattails of his waterbending sister, and that despite having no bending powers he's still extremely capable. After having spent the past year wallowing in self-pity over losing his firebending, that's something he needed to see. _

_Reviewers: Thank you again for all of your feedback and input! While I do have this story loosely mapped out, I wanted to post it as an ongoing work so that I would have the opportunity to incorporate suggestions and ideas that the readers shared in order to make this fun for everyone all around. I really appreciate the time that you all have taken to add your thoughts!_

_There was a reviewer question from __JackieStarSister__ about where I got the idea to have Jun's Shirshu find Ursa—Honestly, it's something that bothered me even back during the first run of the series. It just seemed like such an obvious thing to do. I can understand that they didn't have time to look for her before the comet, but in the finale when Zuko went into the prison and asked his father I was like "Why don't you just ask Jun?"…It doesn't surprise me that the idea has permeated into the fanfic culture, because it just makes so much sense!_

_Sorry for the long and rambling Author's Note. I promise I'll try to cut back next chapter. See you all then!_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 9: Cold**

* * *

><p>The way she was looking at him; as if he had just cut her heart out with a rusty knife, would have been enough to make a kinder man reconsider his words. He shifted in his seat, his earlier humor worn thin after dealing with the aftermath of the conversation in the garden. She had played right into his trap, and exposed herself without him even needing to speak the words. Ozai hadn't been certain that she would be so easily manipulated, or that her brother would be clever enough to put the pieces together on his own—but perhaps the spirits were finally beginning to smile upon him once more. "You brought it on yourself." He reminded, but looked away from the girl before they left his mouth. Her tear soaked eyes, as clear and blue as the deepest ocean waters he had ever seen, were suddenly very offensive to him. Ursa had been fond of using that tactic when she wanted something, and he did not care to be reminded of her or her tears at that moment.<p>

"I know." She whispered, surprising him. "But I thought—"

"You thought what? That I would keep your dirty little secrets for you?" he barked a caustic laugh, looking back to where the girl stood in the doorway that led inside from his balcony. "Have you forgotten that you and your spirits-cursed friends are the reason I'm here? A damned prisoner in _my own home_…My own son the traitor sits on _my_ throne intent upon destroying everything I toiled and sacrificed to build! The two of you helped the Avatar to rip out my bloody _soul_, and take everything from me…My powers, my crown, my _dreams_...And you think I would help you now?" The question hung thick in the air, and Ozai did not miss the way the young woman's blue shoulders slumped defeatedly. A few short moments of silence passed, and he reached to the side table to pour himself a glass of water.

She took a deep breath, wiping at her eyes with the heels of hands. "I saved your life."

"No, you ruined it."

The girl seemed to take a minute, pulling herself together. She dried what tears still lay upon her cheeks, and willed them to stop falling anew. Somehow she appeared less delicate then, her brows knitting as she turned her full attention back upon the older man; a new determination upon her features. "The whole world would be a pile of ash if it were up to you, Ozai. I don't regret my part in stopping that. Neither does Zuko—It was right, and I will never apologize for doing what it took to bring peace and balance to the four nations."

The prisoner absently lifted his glass to his lips, not even looking up as he corrected her. "Three nations. And really, the way things seem to be going here in the Fire Nation under my son's rule, there might soon be only two."

He heard the soft scuffing of her boots as she padded across the floor, stopping just in front of where he sat to look down upon him. "Zuko is trying to put right what you and your father and grandfather spent a hundred years destroying. It isn't going to happen overnight. And he's going to need Aang's help." There was a soft rustling, and Ozai watched as the waterbender knelt before him, her head bowed. "Please. Please, when Aang gets here…Please don't tell him about us. I'm begging you, for Zuko…"

"Get up, girl." He ordered, leaning low in his seat to catch her eyes with his own as she looked up pleadingly. There was a flash of something else in her eyes—mortification? Disgust? Or perhaps it was only pure, unadulterated hatred. He understood from the look on her face that it had killed her to beg anything of him. Yet she had, and that intrigued him. "It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

Her hand clenched into fists at her sides, and she stood once more. "I can handle Sokka." She murmured, not looking him in the eyes. "Aang will want to speak with you when he arrives…And I-I just don't want him to hear it from you."

Ozai sneered. "Then perhaps you should beat me to it and confess on your own? It is not very _honorable_ to keep such secrets from friends or lovers. You would do well to remind my son of that." And then he smiled at her; a genuine smile that held no malice or promise of cruel intentions. "He doesn't deserve you, anyway."

Katara seemed taken aback by his remark and strange reaction to the contempt she had shown him. She narrowed her eyes, trying to figure him out.

"I'll make you a bargain." He offered.

"What kind of bargain?"

"The kind where I keep my mouth shut if you do something for me."

Immediately her hackles were raised, and she took a step back, falling into some waterbending form that looked completely alien to him. "What are you talking about?" she asked, or rather accused.

Ozai chuckled. "Don't look so scandalized. It's a simple matter, really." He moved his glass to his other hand so that he could gesture diplomatically with his right. "I could be of use to the Nation. I know how to put down a revolt, quell a riot, and fill empty coffers. I know how to do these things without begging for help from the Avatar. Zuko knows this. That's why he had me brought here, isn't it?"

Katara shook her head, but her pose slackened a little. "No, it's not. And if you're suggesting that you should be trusted with any sort of political power whatsoever, you're out of your mind."

"I could advise my son if I had my freedom."

She flat out scoffed at him. "You know I can't do that. I couldn't do it if I wanted to. Only Zuko—"

"Then convince him." He pressed, "How much simpler would it be if these troubles could go away? He spoke to me of paying a debt to society—_Let_ me. Give me a chance to fix this mess the Avatar has made, and in return I will keep your secret." Golden eyes implored blue, and his body warmed with confidence as he realized that she was actually considering his words. But it was all too brief.

"No."

He had not anticipated such blatant resistance. Frustration rose within him, and with it a strange searing heat that coursed through his blood spreading rage throughout his entire body. He wanted to hurt this girl, to burn her flesh and hear her plead for death. "Fine. Then I will speak of your illicit actions to anyone who will listen." His eyes narrowed. "And when the Avatar turns his anger upon Zuko, you can try and remind him about 'peace and love', for all the good it will do. So much for that honor of his…"

She stomped her foot, glaring at him as a petulant child would—though the prisoner was afforded a display of her raw power as the water in his hand exploded outward, shattering the glass and drenching his lap. "What do _you_ know of honor? You're a vicious, depraved monster!"

He stood, brushing the tiny shards of glass from his clothing. They fell to the floor, some of the larger pieces shattering anew as they hit the hard marble. Ozai looked down his nose at the young woman. "Says the peasant whore who spreads her legs for-" He was cut off abruptly by the loud crack of her hand against his cheek. She had struck him with enough force to turn his head, and it left his flesh stinging.

The girl stood still before him, her lips pressed in a firm line as she stared him down. "Say it again." She challenged, her voice low and dangerous.

The former Fire Lord looked her over savagely. She was strong, defiant, and brave as she was beautiful, but Ozai had little appreciation for such things at the moment. His fists clenched at his sides and he snarled in answer to her challenge with a rage he had been unable to conjure within himself in a very long time. His mind became a whirling tempest of visions that all involved her pretty little carcass charred and sizzling upon the floor.

Katara seemed suddenly taken aback, and she stepped away from him—her eyes widened. There was a sense of panic that spread over her face. Without warning, she turned on her heels and bolted for the door, banging and shouting until the guards in the hall opened it and let her out.

Ozai heard frantic shouting coming from the hallway, the sounds of armored men and heavy boots running this way and that. It was enough to jar him out of the spiteful haze that had overcome him. He wondered what the commotion could be about, and what had sent a master waterbender running like she was being chased by a platypus-bear.

And then he saw the smoke rising from his fists.

* * *

><p>Ming said nothing as she knelt before him, though the look on her face betrayed a great deal of concern. And perhaps a bit of fear. It had been so long since anyone had feared him that he had almost forgotten the rush of gratification that followed. Outside he could hear the riots carrying on in full force, but his room was silent. Ten firebenders flanked him, their fists at the ready in case he made an abrupt move. Two more guards stood behind Ming, these with crossbows which they trained at his neck. He shifted insomuch as his chains would allow, the metal cuffs that covered his hands to prevent firebending digging into his wrists painfully with every movement. His lower back ached from being forced to kneel on the hard marble floor with his ankles bound for hours. A steel mask covered the lower half of his face; a safeguard against firebreathing, but somewhat of a hindrance to breathing in general. Zuko was clearly taking no chances.<p>

One of the guards cleared his throat, and Ming nodded over her shoulder at him. She had with her only a cup of water, and it sloshed about in her trembling hand. "I'm going to take off your mask so you can drink." She said, meeting his golden gaze with her own. "Please….Please don't do anything stupid…"

Ozai nodded.

The guardswoman raised her free hand to his cheek to unclasp the latch that held the mask in place, and gently pulled it away from his face. Blood had crusted from his nostrils to his chin, a leftover from earlier when half the guards in the palace had descended upon him and forced him into the metal restraints. She wiped at it with her bare fingers.

It took all his willpower not to gasp for air as soon as the mask was off of him, but he knew that doing so would set the firebenders on edge. Instead he closed his eyes and concentrated on slow, steady breaths as Ming brought the cup to his lips. It was difficult to drink in such a position, and water trickled down his chin and onto his shirt. When at last it was drained she pulled it away, and he dared to speak. "What will become of me?"

Ming held up a hand to calm the firebenders and bowmen that had tensed. "That's for Fire Lord Zuko to decide." Her words were gentle, but they stung him like a hundred guinea-hornets all the same.

"Ming…"

"Quiet." He felt her thumb press his lips together, and then she was laying the mask back against his face. It clicked back into place and she fastened the latch, then tucked a stray piece of hair back behind his ear.

He watched as she stood, and the dozen guards that surrounded him turned and begin filing toward the door. Ming lingered, but only for a moment. When she pulled her eyes away from him and followed, he felt his blood run cold. Not even the fire in his belly could warm him.

* * *

><p><em>AN: This is way later than my promised posting schedule…I'm very sorry for that! Real life happens, and to be honest I had a really tough time writing the first scene in this chapter. I'm still not happy with it, but you all have waited long enough. This is the beginning of the end for Conversations with Ozai, and I suspect it will conclude within the next few installments._

_I promised I'd keep Author's Notes to a minimum this time, so I'll leave it at that. Thank you for the reviews and continued support!_


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 10: Gone**

* * *

><p>The first pale pink tendrils of dawn were beginning to snake their way through the windows, and it was with no small amount of effort that Ozai shifted his body—chained and bound as he was—to allow one ray of light to touch his face. He felt <em>something<em>, but it wasn't the same…not like it had been before the comet, when his power was unequaled. Long hours had passed since Ming had come to him with water the evening before. He had passed the time listening to the roaring of angry crowds, explosions and cannon fire as the riots raged outside the palace walls. The sleepless night, made to feel so much longer than it was by the aches and chafing of his bindings, left him feeling weakened and lightheaded. He had wondered if he would pass out for lack of oxygen a few times-the stubborn refusal of the steel mask to allow anything more than a faint trace of air to pass had left him gasping like a koi fish on dry land half the night. Warmth stirred in his belly, and he longed to test the accusation that they were making; that his firebending abilities had been restored to him. Two thin wisps of smoke; so faint that he had wondered if they had only been a trick of the light. Where there was smoke there was fire, but then he knew he had summoned no flame. There hadn't been enough time to try.

To think that after a year of living the cursed life of a powerless non-bender his abilities would be mysteriously restored for no apparent reason was maddening. He had spent hours running over the events in his mind, trying to remember what might have persuaded the spirits to intervene in the lives of mortals and grant him such a gift. _No, not the spirits_. He groaned, shifting his weight to his knees to spare his tailbone. _It was the girl…the waterbender._

It made sense, he decided. Whatever the Avatar had done to sever the pathways of his chi, the waterbender's healing sessions must have inadvertently repaired. He winced as his ankle ground against the floor. She had been using her healing technique on him for weeks—first on his burn, and then in her multiple attempts to calm the discomforts of his ailments. She surely had no idea her ministrations would have such an effect...perhaps she still hadn't come to the same conclusion that he had.

His head snapped up as he heard the faint click of the locks on his door, and he bristled with apprehension. He was never disturbed so early, even when he had been housed in the prison. Were they coming to take him back there? Or would he be ferried off to face his execution? His heart dropped in his chest as the door opened, and in the brief moment before a figure stepped through the shadows he thought of Azula. She was nothing, now. A husk. And yet the understanding that he might die today left him awash in regret and pity. He had lost his powers, his freedom. But they hadn't taken his mind. If Zuko took his life, at least he would die like a Firebender. Azula would live the rest of hers like a head of cabbage; wilting to decay. The thought sickened him.

"Just you, Ming." He heard the familiar rasp of Zuko's voice. "The rest of you stay out here and await my orders."

"As you command, Fire Lord!" a number of voices responded in unison, and the sound of clanking armor echoed as guards fell into line in the hall.

Ozai watched as six figures stepped into the room, the last—Sokka, the waterbender's brother—closed the door behind them and leaned against it with arms folded over his chest, his blue eyes downcast. The shape that was Zuko flicked his wrist and one of the sconces on the far wall flamed to life, illuminating the room far better than the pre-dawn haze. He could see them all clearly now, though a part of him wished for the room to be plunged into total darkness so that he would not have to. There was Ming, standing at attention to Zuko's side, and the water tribe siblings. A small young woman clad in Earth Kingdom green was padding toward him—he did not know her name, but recognized her only vaguely from the day of the comet. And then there was the Avatar, standing there looking like a lost child with sadness and burden clearly written across his young face.

"Hey, Loser Lord." The Earth girl drolled sardonically as she approached. "Sparky says you went and got your bending back. That true?"

He only glared at her, but she seemed not to notice. It was almost as though she were awaiting his verbal reply without regard for his physical one.

"Um…Master Toph…" Ming cut in softly, "He is masked. It's a safety precaution…He can't speak…" Ozai felt her golden gaze slide to his sympathetically, and he tore his own eyes away from the earthbender to return it imploringly. The guardswoman pressed her lips together and looked away.

"Huh. Weird. Well take it off—" Toph began.

"No!" Katara interrupted, stepping forward. Behind her the water tribe boy scoffed. "No…leave it on. He can nod to answer yes or no." There was a cadence of finality in her tone, but Ozai did not miss the spiteful warning in the way she cut her eyes at him.

The earthbender laughed, finding humor where the others clearly did not. "Whatever, Sweetness."

"Is it true, Ozai?" The Avatar asked, not unkindly, as he moved to stand beside the waterbender. His hand reached out to take hers, but she seemed not to notice even when his chubby fingers wrapped around her slender ones. "Has your firebending returned?"

He shrugged, and had the gravity of the situation not weighed so heavily, he might have enjoyed the frustrated looks that went around.

"It just doesn't make any sense." Zuko murmured, shaking his head. "How could he be 'un-spirit-bended'?"

The Avatar shook his arrowed head, heaving a soft sigh. "I don't know. Maybe it's the will of the spirits themselves—I might need to meditate and ask them for counsel."

"Yeah, well you get right on that, Twinkletoes." The young girl turned and headed back over toward the door, offering the airbender a light punch on the arm as she passed him. "I'm too pooped from the ride here to deal with this right now. We've already got plenty of stuff to worry about now that we're here. Can't this wait until tomorrow? Besides, it doesn't seem like he's going anywhere."

"We can't just leave him like this indefinitely." The water tribesman declared, not looking up. "It's not right." His blue eyes shifted accusingly toward his sister.

"Well it's not like Aang can just spirit-bend him again, because we don't know if it's going to wear off at any given moment." Katara countered, more acidly than was necessary. She crossed her arms, and turned to look pointedly at Zuko, her lovely features taking on a hint of gentleness even where her voice did not. "Maybe this is a threat that just needs to be ended once and for all."

All eyes turned toward the young Fire Lord, and Ozai felt a wave of newfound hatred for his son flow over him. That the traitor, the weakling, should hold so much power over him was unforgivable. Their eyes met, and he was surprised to see the doubt and anguish on the boy's face.

Long moments stretched on, and at last Zuko spoke. "Aang, this is your call."

The Avatar nodded, and stepped forward to stand before the prisoner. He knelt so that his face was at eye level and looked Ozai over with gray eyes too wise for his years. "I need some time to think." He said solemnly.

The room went silent, save for Ozai's ragged breathing as he struggled to maintain his airflow through the stifling mask.

"My Lord!" came a sudden shout from the hallway, and all of them turned as the water tribesman pulled the door open to allow a disheveled servant to enter. The man looked like he had quite literally run from one wing of the massive palace to the other. "My lord!" He said again, hastily dropping to a kowtow before Zuko; clearly winded.

"What is it?" Zuko demanded, raising his hands palm upward in frustration.

"The Dragon of the West is here!" the servant hurried breathlessly.

The young Fire Lord nearly tripped over his robes in his haste as he bolted out the door without another word. The Avatar's friends exchanged quick glances before dashing from the room after him. Ming and the flabbergasted servant followed, albeit at a less tiresome pace. Before closing the door behind her the guardswoman spared Ozai a compassionate glance and waved her hand; extinguishing the flames in the wall sconces. It didn't matter. Sunlight poured freely into the room through the tall windows.

Ozai wondered if he had just witnessed his last dawn.

* * *

><p>He had not laid eyes upon his elder brother since the day Azula had brought him to the palace in chains following the fall of Ba Sing Se. Prior to that it had been years—the retired General had voluntarily left the Fire Nation on the same ship that had carried a newly banished Zuko out to sea. In the years following Lu-Ten's death Iroh had aged without grace and expanded in all the wrong places, but the raging juggernaut that stood before him now bore far more resemblance to the legendary Dragon of the West that Ozai remembered.<p>

"You knew…" The older man accused in a feral growl, smoke billowing from his nostrils as he lurched forward and grabbed his younger brother by the back of the neck with a searing hand.

Ozai clenched his teeth to keep from biting his tongue as his face was slammed against the hard marble floor. Ironically, it was the cursed steel mask that probably saved him from a mouthful of broken teeth—though he could taste the metallic tang of blood as his head was bashed against the floor again. He saw stars.

"You knew!" Iroh shouted again and kicked him hard enough in the side to flip him over onto his back.

The weight of his body pinned his manacled arms painfully beneath him, and the prisoner struggled to breathe through the mask; its inside slickened with blood. The sharp agony near his diaphragm told him that his brother had cracked one of his ribs. A heavy hand reached down and all but tore the mask from his face. He was momentarily stunned by the sudden rush of fresh air, but the sensation was short lived as he was grabbed roughly by the jaw.

Iroh's eyes burned with a terrible fury. "Why?" he demanded, and for an instant his weathered face crumbled as he choked back what sounded like a sob. "Why did you lie to him? Why did you give him false hope?" With a thud he dropped the prisoner's head back to the marble. "Haven't you tortured him enough?"

He could stand it no more. "What are you talking about?" Ozai beseeched, his throat dry and rasping despite the blood that leaked liberally from his mouth.

"She's dead."

It was as though his heart stopped beating in his chest. When he gathered enough of his wits to look at his brother again he could tell from the way Iroh watched him that his own genuine shock was apparent. Ozai simply lay there like a limp corpse, his shallow breathing the only indication that he wasn't one.

Iroh settled back, much of his earlier demeanor melting away to reveal his more genial side. "You didn't know…" It wasn't a question.

He felt his brother's hand on his shoulder, his touch gentle and in stark contrast to only a few moments ago. His mind whirled as he attempted to process what he had just been told, to acknowledge that Ursa was gone. _Really_ gone. He tried to picture her as she had been the night they had met, and on the day they married, when youth and naiveté had truly made him believe that holding her in his arms would be enough to bring him happiness. He searched his memories for her image, remembering the way she looked as he'd held her that night on Ember Island, the way her lips pulled into a coy smile as she told him he would be a father. He closed his eyes and could almost feel the feather-light kisses she had trailed across his neck as she had begged him with all her soul to let second-best be enough, and the tears she had shed against his chest as she pleaded for him to spare her precious son's life. The bitter taste of betrayal was acrid in his mouth, a tangible reminder of that night. The night she had given him everything. The night she had slipped from his arms, never to return.

"I'm sorry." Iroh murmured softly. "I'm sorry, little brother."

It wasn't until he felt his brother's calloused hand wipe the tears from his cheeks that he realized he had shed them.

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><p>His eye was nearly swollen shut, blackened and bruised. That was only one on a long list of aches, pains, and discomforts left over from his earlier encounter with Iroh. They didn't bother him; hardly registered through the numbness he felt all over. Ming had come to clean the blood from his face and the floor, to feed him a few spoonfuls of soup and tip a cup of water into his mouth, but even when she had whispered in his ear and offered to keep his mask off for a few moments more he had not spoken to her. The sun had long since set, and as he sat in the darkness he listened to the sounds of the riots as they wafted in through the window.<p>

"Don't you have anything to say?" Zuko asked, his voice hoarse and weary. He sat on the floor across from his father, though in the darkness only his slumped outline and the faint glow of golden eyes were visible.

Ozai said nothing.

"I shouldn't be surprised." There was no venom in the statement, only resignation. "There was a time," Zuko softly began, "when I would have given everything I had for nothing more than a kind word from you." He paused and took a shuddering breath. "It was before I realized what kind of man you are."

Still, he was silent. He let his gaze slide down to where the mask lay on the floor beside him. His son had removed it so they could talk, but thus far the conversation had been one-sided.

"Do you remember that time at the beach house when Mom and I spent all day weaving flower and seashell necklaces?" The young man sniffled, and paused for the answer he knew wouldn't come. "You wouldn't wear the one I made for you. Do you remember that?"

Silence.

"I snuck out of bed that night, out onto the lanai, and I saw you and Mom holding hands, walking down to the beach. She was wearing her necklace, and you were wearing yours, too."

He closed his eyes.

"Why did you put it on, then?"

His voice was little more than a whisper. "Because she asked me to."

Zuko breathed a heavy sigh. "What happened to make you hate me so much?"

Ozai opened his eyes and met his son's gaze through the darkness. "She chose you."

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><p><em>AN: I have always wanted to see Iroh give post-series Ozai a total beat down. I mean one of those remorseless pound flesh into pulp type ass-kickings that truly befits child abusers and mass-murderers…but for the purposes of this story that confrontation had to be toned down a great deal and injected with a heavy dose of angst. Maybe one day that will merit a one-shot._

_Anyway, so this is probably one of the heavier chapters I've had to write for this story so far. I never promised anyone rainbows and unicorns, but even though I've had the major events laid out since the beginning this is turning out to be a little darker than I had originally planned. I hope that's not off-putting to too many of you. The next chapter probably won't be any happier. This is not an Ozai-Redemption fic, and the dude doesn't exactly inspire cheerful plots even at the best of times._

_Wow. Conversations reached 50 reviews last chapter. When I first posted this, I thought I'd be lucky to get five... Reviewers, thank you again. Kimberly T, Thomas Drovin, ArrayePL, Snarkhunter, and a few others-You all have hung with this thing since the beginning and I seriously appreciate that. Your reviews have consistently been insightful, encouraging, and motivational, and as a first time writer I literally do not have the capability to express how much they've helped me. I am very grateful._


	12. Chapter 12

_A/N: I try not to do big notes at the start of a chapter, but there were some things I wanted to clarify before the end of this one. That said, this is only analysis, so if you don't care to read it you can skip ahead to where the chapter begins. You won't be missing anything important._

_There was mixed reaction to the last chapter-most especially the Iroh scene. Some readers noted that his actions seemed out of character for such an enlightened man who only uses violence as a last resort. My take on that obviously differs...After everything (and let's face it, "everything" is a whole plethora of really nasty stuff) Ozai did to Iroh and to the ones he loves, I truly felt as though having to come home to the Fire Nation empty handed and console his shattered nephew (whom he loves like his own son) was just the last straw. When Jun's shirshu led them to an unmarked old grave somewhere in the Earth Kingdom, it wouldn't have been a far-fetched idea for him to presume that Ozai had something to do with it. And of course having witnessed Ozai's manipulative behavior on many occasions before, he would have assumed his brother was lying about Ursa being alive merely for the pleasure of playing with Zuko's head. Iroh is a just man, but he's not a saint. So in short, my explanation for Iroh's brief brutality toward Ozai is simple: He snapped. It was a momentary lapse in judgment, and he immediately regrets it._

_Also, here's my take on Ozai/Ursa: In this story I've established that Ozai wasn't ever made to feel like he was "the most important" by anyone growing up. Azulon favored Iroh. His mother committed suicide when he was very young (which Ozai would have construed as meaning that she obviously didn't value him enough to stick around and see him grow up). Iroh had his career, and eventually Lu-Ten. I seriously doubt Ozai had friends. He develops a complex which drives him toward seeking that reverence and power he's been denied his whole life. And then Ursa comes along and suddenly he is #1 to someone. I think this would have brought Ozai very genuine happiness. Until Zuko is born and he has to share Ursa's attention and love. There would have been resentment and petty jealousy there, but the floodgates weren't really opened until Ursa decided that she would rather kill and die to save Zuko than lose her son and stick with Ozai. It's what any halfway decent parent would do for their child, but Ozai doesn't see it that way. Instead, it eats him up inside that the one person who ever loved him and made him happy chose Zuko over him. So, being the mature and utterly well-adjusted person he is, he hates Zuko for that. As an aside, I believe the family dynamic that resulted from Ozai's neediness and Ursa's overprotectiveness of Zuko is also why Ozai and Azula get along so fabulously. Ursa sort of ignored Azula when she wasn't busy scolding her, and a lot of Azula's childhood actions, particularly toward Zuko, just scream "this is a product of jealousy" to me. They both took a backseat to Zuko when it came to Ursa's attentions, and likely bonded (in a strange and dysfunctional way) since they had that in common._

_So there you have my long winded commentary. Even if you disagree with it (and you are welcome to do so!), I hope it helps to explain why I chose to include some of the more controversial scenes from last chapter. Now, onto the next..._

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><p><strong>Chapter 11: Heat<strong>

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><p>He passed the time by counting the booms of canon fire, the powerful sounds emanating in sharp contrast to the cacophonous din of rioters roars in the air. Since Zuko had left him alone he had not tried to sleep. Part of him was half afraid of what he would see if he closed his eyes. How long had she been dead? Was she felled by the hands of another, or did her body succumb to plague or hunger? Did she die alone? There were so many questions; questions that would probably never be answered...at least not in his lifetime. For all he knew, he might be joining her in the spirit world very soon.<p>

The little monk had come into his room shortly after sunrise. He had waved the guards away, and even told Ming to wait outside. They didn't argue with him; he was the Avatar, after all. He sat lotus style in the center of the room, his big gray eyes filled with unspoken emotion as he watched the fallen former Phoenix King. Ozai couldn't have questioned him if he'd wanted to; the steel mask still in place over the lower half of his face rendering him incapable of words. So they simply stared at one another. An hour or more had passed that way before the boy finally broke the silence.

"Where I came from we believed that all life is sacred-even if it happens to belong to someone who has done great evil. The monks taught me that taking life is never the answer. It isn't our decision, as mortals, to decide who gets to live or die. That's why I spared you on the day that I defeated you. I figured if you didn't have your bending you wouldn't be able to do the kinds of cruel, terrible things that you had before. I really thought I had found the answer. I guess I forgot to take into account that bending is a gift from the spirits, and they don't take too kindly to us meddling with their decisions." The child Avatar breathed a quiet sigh. "I should have known that the Universe would find a way to fix what I'd broken."

Ozai looked away from the boy with the arrow tattoos, turning his head to look at where the sunlight pouring through the window fell upon the floor.

"I could spirit-bend you again..."

The prisoner's gaze snapped back to the Avatar, eyes widened in horror. The spirit-bending process had been painful and violating in a way that he hoped never again to experience. It was as if his very soul had been ripped from is body, torn to shreds, and then stuffed back inside. He decided at that moment that he would rather die than endure such torture again.

"...but there's no guarantee that it would even work. And if it did, it might only be a matter of time until it wore off. It's just not a solution."

Ozai exhaled in relief, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension fled from them.

"On the other hand, you have certainly proven that you can't be trusted with your powers. Unleashing you on the world again isn't an option. And simply trying to keep you locked away is dangerous, because there is always a possibility that you might escape." The boy rubbed at his temples with his fingers. "Which means the only way to be absolutely sure you won't ever hurt anyone again is to remove you from this world."

He was almost surprised by his utter _lack_of surprise. As Fire Lord he had ordered thousands of executions-even performed some himself, when the condemned was high profile enough-but it had never crossed his mind until after his defeat at the hands of the Avatar that it might be his own proverbial head on the chopping block. When his life had been spared he had thought it very strange indeed.

Aang stood, or rather, he blew himself up from the floor and into a standing position. "But killing you would mean taking a life that isn't mine to take. I don't have that right." He stepped lightly over to Ozai's bound form and knelt, his fingers reaching out toward the clasp that held the mask in place. "So I've decided to take a chance on you. Zuko redeemed himself, even when I never thought he would. Maybe after you've had long enough to reflect on your misdeeds you could, too—"

Just as the Avatar's childish fingers were about to pull the clasp loose the door swung open, and in a flurry of blue the waterbender rushed into the room. "Aang, there you are..."

The boy just nodded, but much to Ozai's chagrin he did indeed stop; his hand falling away as he turned to address the approaching young woman. "Sorry, I know I was supposed to meet you for breakfast this morning. I was up all night meditating and after I spoke with the spirits about everything I felt like I needed to come here first..."

"You spoke with the spirits?" She asked, stopping in her tracks as she came to stand behind Aang. She spared a cursory glance at the prisoner, and appeared immediately relieved.

"Yeah..." he began, his brow furrowing. "I needed to know what happened with the spirit-bending. Every spirit I asked refused to discuss it, but when I went to see Koh-"

Katara's hands flew to her mouth. "Koh! Aang, you went to Koh's lair?"

Ozai, too, raised his eyebrows in disbelief. There was no darker, more horrible place in all of legend than the lair of Koh the Face Stealer. Trying to imagine this exuberant child bouncing his way down into the depths of that hell and having a conversation with the demon was difficult at best.

The Avatar shrugged sheepishly, biting his bottom lip. "It's not the first time..."

That seemed not to calm the girl all that much. "Well, what did he say?"

"It's kind of fuzzy, really. Koh talks in riddles...all the spirits do, but he's the worst one." he ran a hand over his bald head as if he were pushing imaginary hair out of his face. "I asked why the spirits had returned Ozai's bending, and he told me that it was no spirit who did it. And then he said that the one responsible is someone close to me, who has betrayed my love and friendship. Of course, he wouldn't give me a name. That would have been asking too much. The spirits are funny about naming names."

The waterbender listened attentively, folding her arms over her chest as she absently paced across the room and back.

"Hey Katara?"

"Yeah, Aang?"

He hesitated, obviously taking the time to choose his words carefully. "I hate to even consider this, but do you think Sokka might have done something?"

"...Sokka? What? Why would you think that, Aang?" Her confusion and perhaps a sliver of hurt were evident in her tone.

The Avatar placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "I know, I know...But he's just been acting really strange since I got here. He won't even look me in the eye." He took a deep breath, and scratched his head; his gaze sliding toward where the prisoner sat. "The guards say he's been spending a lot of time with Ozai. And then yesterday, he made that comment..."

The former Fire Lord shifted under the scrutiny, and winced as he jostled his cracked rib; nearly doubling over. Even despite the mask, pain flashed across his face.

Katara frowned, eying the prisoner warily, and then heaved a heavy sigh. One thumb flicked the cap off of her waterskin, and with the other she pulled the liquid out to glove her hand as she approached Ozai and knelt beside him. "That doesn't make any sense, Aang. Sokka doesn't know the first thing about bending or spirit-bending, or fixing chi..." Her hands were on his face, fingers focusing the healing waters around his black eye. Suddenly her jaw dropped, and the water fell from her hands to drench his shirt and pool on the floor. "Oh spirits, Aang...It's _me_!"

"What?" The Avatar asked, perplexed. One eyebrow rose, and he was staring at the waterbender with a look of unabashed confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I've been healing him..." She was standing now, her hands clutching her hair as she shook her head in disbelief, "The spirit-bending had some effect on his body, physically...He was deteriorating. Zuko asked me if I could do something to help with it. Then there was that attack in the prison, and I've been healing him for weeks...WEEKS, Aang! I had no idea I was fixing anything other than his body! The water must have been restoring the chi channels that your spirit-bending destroyed..."

The gray-eyed boy laughed. "It couldn't have been you, Katara. Koh said whoever was responsible had betrayed me, and you would never do that..."

It was hard, with the mask and the aching in his side, but Ozai managed a hidden smile.

Blue eyes shone with tears, and the girl took a few timid steps toward the airbender before reaching out to take his hands in hers. She took a shuddering breath, sparing a glance at the prisoner before turning to look the boy in the face. "Aang, you and I need to talk."

The humor had fled from the young Avatar's eyes. He wasn't laughing anymore.

"Come on." she whispered, and let go of one of his hands, pulling him toward the door with the other. "Let's go find someplace to sit down."

The Avatar allowed himself to be led toward the door. Before he stepped through it he turned his bald head to look over his shoulder one last time at man in chains.

Ozai almost felt sorry for him.

* * *

><p>He had little appetite, though the fire burning in the pit of his stomach was demanding sustenance. Firebenders were generally a hungry lot for such reasons. Hours had passed since the waterbender and the Avatar had left him, and he filled the time hoping for all the ways the child might lose his temper and dismember his traitorous son. Now <em>that<em>would be a sight to behold.

"No, it's alright. I've got this." he heard Ming's voice carry in from the hallway as the door cracked open. It seemed she was waiting for a response from whomever it was she had spoken to, and then she entered-her arms laden with the tray that carried a bowl of dumplings and a cup of water.

He offered a muffled sound in greeting, and watched as she crossed the room to kneel before him. She was alone, which seemed strange. Since he had been declared 'dangerous' once again, she hadn't come to him with anything less than two other guards in tow.

"I'm sorry I'm late with your breakfast." she said, one corner of her mouth tugging up into a gentle smile. Setting the tray down beside her, she set the chopsticks along the rim of the bowl of dumplings and picked it up with one hand. "Things have been buzzing around the palace this morning." Her other hand rose to his face, to the latch that would remove the awful mask. She paused, and held his gaze.

Although she didn't bother to speak the words, he gathered her meaning. _Don't burn me to a crisp, please_. He nodded. Ming was too useful to kill.

Satisfied, the guardswoman deftly unhinged the latch and pulled the offending piece of metal away from his face. She waited a moment for him to take a few deep breaths before picking up the chopsticks and digging them into the dumplings, securing one between them. "Your eye looks better than it did last night."

Ozai looked down at the offered morsel, and despite his mental aversion to food at the moment, his stomach growled. He opened his mouth and permitted Ming to feed him. One dumpling fell from the chopsticks as he bit into it, and she caught it in her hand before popping the remainder into his mouth with her fingers. She smiled sweetly at him, and he rankled at being hand-fed like a tame kimodo-rhino. "I'm finished." he declared, more abrasively than was necessary.

"Of course. Here, drink something." She raised the cup to his lips and helped him to drink before adding almost as an afterthought, "The Avatar is gone."

"What?" He asked incredulously, water still dribbling down his chin.

Ming set the cup aside and pulled a handkerchief from her gauntlet, wiping his face dry. "He left this morning. There was a big scene in the throne room...Rumor is things got really heated between him and Fire Lord Zuko. I wasn't there, but you know how swiftly word travels here in the palace. He flew off on his little winged contraption-left his sky bison and everything. No one's really sure where he went, but Master Katara was very upset."

It took Ozai a moment to realize that he was smiling.

The guardswoman frowned, looking him in the eyes with a mixture of knowing accusation. "What did you do?"

He shrugged and answered honestly. "Absolutely nothing." It was true. Technically.

She breathed a quiet sigh and stacked the dishes back upon the tray. "Ozai?"

"Hm?"

"What would you do, if you were free?"

The prisoner raised an eyebrow at his jailor, studying her delicate features as she watched him. "That's a stupid question."

"So give me a stupid answer."

"I'd defeat the Avatar, finish burning my son's face off, and take back my throne."

Ming groaned. "You're right. That _is_ a stupid answer."

"Ming?"

She was reaching for the mask. "What is it?"

He wasn't really sure why he asked. Perhaps it was to delay the replacement of the offending mask upon his face, or maybe a part of him really was a little curious. "What would you have me do, if I were free?"

That pretty smile spread across her lips again, and she leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his cheek. "Run away with me. We could hop a freighter out of the Fire Nation-Go East to the Earth Kingdom. Maybe Omashu? Or further North..." Her fingers brushed gently across his blackened eye. "Blend in. Find work...make a new life for ourselves. It wouldn't be easy, and we'd have to hide our firebending, but we could do it." She kissed him again. "We could be happy."

He wanted to laugh at her; to mock her ridiculous fantasy and tell her that he could never find happiness with a peasant; never toil away like some common Earth Kingdom scum while the usurper sat on his throne, driving his Nation to ruin. But when she cupped his cheek in her hand and smiled again; her dull honey-colored eyes watching him expectantly, he was reminded of Ursa and all the derision died on his tongue. "That sounds...nice..."

* * *

><p>Thunder boomed in the distance. Monsoon season was wrapping up, evening was setting in, and as weather patterns shifted toward the hot dry season such instability in the atmosphere often created storms of lightning and thunder without the rains. The sound pierced the silence of his room again, and he turned his head to watch the window. The sun would set soon.<p>

The fire within him was flickering as the source of its power waned into night. He could feel it in his core, and through his veins. It was a faint sensation-in no way as raw and intense as it had been before the Avatar's victory over him. But it was there. He longed to stoke the flame with deep breaths and strong forms, but at present his mask and shackles stole such possibilities away. He contented himself for the time being with meditation. Or attempts at meditation. The booming thunder; growing louder and more insistent by the moment, made it difficult to concentrate.

The most deafening crack of thunder yet sounded in his ears, and he winced. It had been so furious that the very walls of the palace shook.

He looked once again toward the window, out into the night sky. It was orange with the ruddy glow of flame and smoke. Another thunderous boom assaulted his ears, and then he saw flames surge higher-smoke billowing in thick black waves. There was a tremendous roar, and he realized that it was the cacophony of tens of thousands of voices just outside the palace walls, all raised in frightful elation.

Yes, there was a storm coming. But it had nothing to do with the weather.

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><p><em>AN: I rambled way too much at the beginning, so I'll keep this short. Aang is very difficult for me to write, mostly because I don't think like him at all. I hope I didn't do his character too much injustice. A part of me almost wishes I could have shown him and Katara having the talk, but I honestly feel like she would NEVER give Ozai the satisfaction of having that discussion in front of him. So he gets to hear about the aftermath from Ming instead. And speaking of Ming...I DEFINITELY don't think Ozai feels the same way about her as she does about him, but she might just be a little too smitten to realize that. A lot of women eventually find that to be the case when they have a thing for bad boys._

_As for the last bit...You all didn't really think Zuko could ignore the riots for so long and not face the consequences, did you?_

_Reviewers, as always, I am ever so grateful that you have taken the time to share your thoughts. AND your criticisms. My skin is thick and my writing can only be improved with your constructive feedback and suggestions, so please don't shy away from telling me what you really thing. I may not always agree, but understanding reader reception is part of the process. So thank you!_

_See you next chapter!_


	13. Chapter 13

**UPDATED A/N!: This is a pivotal chapter wherein Ozai makes a decision that will determine the path he follows for the rest of his life. In the original incarnation (as it is written below), he makes one choice. However, I have written an "Alternate Ending" that explores that other path...If you wish to read it, I am uploading it as a new chapter at the very end. You can read that one, this one, or both-but I just wanted to make you aware of the options. Enjoy!  
><strong>

**Chapter 12: Mercy**

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><p>After the initial thrum of activity, an eerie silence took over. He had heard a loud skirmish coming from the hallway, and the sound of boots retreating, but now there was nothing. Through the window he could still see the smoke and fires, hear the explosions, and every once in a while make out the sound of someone screaming or barking orders. He tried to keep his breathing low and steady, though the dreadful mask made it difficult and the sharp pain in his side emanating from his cracked rib made every breath feel shallow.<p>

He looked up quickly when he heard footfalls echoing down the hallway, drawing near. Without warning his door burst open, and someone flew into the room with reckless abandon. Ming, he realized, as the orange glow from the window illuminated her features enough for him to make out the woman's form. She was hysterical, gasping for breath between her shuddering sobs. As she hurried nearer; almost toppling him over when she crashed into him, he could see that she had a large gash on her cheek. Blood and soot smeared her face, her tear tracks leaving trails of pale skin visible through the mess.

"We have to go..." She cried, "...We have to go _now_! The palace is under attack-oh, Agni!-We have to get out!" She reached to her belt and pulled out her dagger. The weapon was standard issue for the royal guard, but most imperial firebenders never had issue to use it for anything more than popping open their ration tins or trimming the hooves of a kimodo-rhino while out on assignment. Her trembling hand grasped a fistful of his long black hair, and without warning she slashed at it close to his scalp.

Ozai could not speak, but he began to struggle against her, groaning unintelligible curses and profanities as she systematically cut his hair away. He looked down, horrified, as the pile of long dark strands on the floor around him grew.

Ming bawled uncontrollably, her entire body shaking as she went about her task. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...If they see who you are they'll kill you! Oh, Spirits, we have to hurry..." When the last of his hair was cropped short, leaving uneven patches all over his head, she gathered up the clippings into a pile on the floor and shot a blast of fire at it.

The stench of burning hair assaulted him, and he was caught unaware as the guardswoman's shaking hands pulled the mask away from his face. "What in the name of-!" He began to shout, but was cut short as she grabbed his long beard and sliced it clean away with her knife.

She tossed the beard into the pile of burning hair and began fumbling at her belt again, the sobs wracking her body making it difficult for her to locate the keys for which she was searching. When at last she found them she scooted around behind the bound prisoner and began unlocking his shackles and bindings.

Ozai cursed at her, growling in frustration even as he felt his limbs move freely once again. His arms tingled down to his fingertips as the blood rushed back into the extremities, and he flexed them to settle their shaking as he reached to his head to touch his newly shorn hair. When he spoke to her it came out more like a growl. "By all Koh's bloody faces, woman, _have you lost your mind_?"

Ming was still blubbering, subconsciously rocking herself back and forth where she knelt beside him clutching her dagger in one hand and her keys in the other. "It's awful..." she whimpered. "Fighting everywhere-_Agni_, there are so many of them..."

He bit back some choice commentary and instead lurched to his feet, moaning in pain as the motion caused his cracked rib to shoot an agonizing sensation throughout his side. He had half a mind to leave the crazy wench where she was, but if things were as bad as she said he decided he might want someone to watch his back. He was a bit rusty, after all. Gritting his teeth, he reached down to grab Ming by one of her arms; hauling her roughly to her feet beside him. "Let's go."

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck as she cried.

"Pull yourself together, Ming." He told her, less than kindly. The former Fire Lord stood there and allowed the woman to compose herself, eyeing the smoking pile of ash that lay on the floor behind her with unmasked contempt. When her sobs subsided to quiet weeping he pushed her away and started for the door. He heard her footsteps follow, but hardly cared. _Free...I'm free...  
><em>  
>When they stepped out into the hallway he was taken aback by the sight of blood and bodies. Three guards lay with their corpses filled with arrows; one of them with his arm hacked off. Beside them half a dozen un-uniformed bodies were strewn; their charred flesh still smoking.<p>

Ming started to pick a path through the carnage, heading in the direction of the exit that would let out nearest the stables.

Ozai turned and walked the other way.

"Where are you going?" She whispered loudly when she realized he was not behind her. Swinging around to look at him with wide, terror-filled eyes, she started back toward him.

"Stay here. I won't be long."

"What are you doing? We need to get out _now_!" Her voice was shaken.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, but did not slow his pace. "I can't leave her. Just wait here."

Ming sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and nodded.

* * *

><p>There were no guards standing vigil at the entrance to Azula's suite. No doubt they had all abandoned their posts or been driven away when the fighting began. The door was locked, but Ozai had raised a hand and for the first time in over a year called the power of the flame to his command. A wave of euphoria swept over him, and despite the dire situation he felt himself grin. The molten remains of the lock fell away to the floor as he pushed the heavy mahogany door open.<p>

Someone had straightened up the room since the last time he had been in it. The clutter was put away, but old scorch marks still remained. His eyes were immediately drawn to the still figure lying on the bare mattress. She was awake; murmuring to herself incoherently. The self-inflicted scratches and burns that had marred her flawless features when he had seen her last were no longer there-the waterbender must have healed them as Zuko had said she would.

"No...You don't know anything. You weren't even here. You are BANISHED! Shut up. I'm the Fire Lord, now. Quit mocking me. No...Traitor. Traitors. All traitors. No. Be _quiet_."

He approached the bed, reaching out a hand to lay upon his daughter's forehead as she lay babbling to herself. She jerked slightly at his touch, her wild golden eyes flicking up to meet his. "Azula." he said softly, and she laughed. Ozai sighed.

"You see? He loves ME. I order you to die. Agni Kai! _Peasant_. I'll show you lightning..."

"Azula..." he said again.

"Father?" She asked before launching into another garbled tirade.

Ozai frowned, and ran his fingers lightly over her cheek. "I can't take you with me. But I won't leave you like this." He sat on the bed beside her and pulled her up against him so that her back leaned against his chest. Her skin was clammy and hot to the touch; far hotter than that of a normal firebender. When she was a child, he remembered, she would have nightmares and on many a night he had awakened to the sound of sniffling and a tiny hand on his. Of course he had complained when Ursa would pull the little girl up into their bed to sleep between them. The child had been like a furnace against his back as she slept; and it had been his first indication that perhaps the extent of her powers was something worth investigating. But being a firebending prodigy, unfortunately, hadn't saved her from _this _fate.

She began to weep. "I'm the Fire Lord. Father loves me more. Shut up. Shut up. No...I made him proud. I made him proud!"

Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he held her for a moment; his cheek resting against the black stubble that was all that remained of her once beautiful raven hair. "You made me very proud." he whispered, and kissed her head.

"Daddy?"

He reached around, lodging her neck in the crook of his elbow.

"Daddy-Gnn!"

She thrashed and sputtered as he squeezed, and it took every bit of his diminished strength to hold her down as he choked the life breath out of her. When at last it was done, and her body lay limp against his, he kissed her head again-ignoring the hot tears that pricked his eyes, and pushed her off of him. She had earned better than this, truly, but the gift of a quick death was a mercy. No Princess of the Fire Nation deserved to live a life of weakness and indignity. He grasped his side and stood.

Azula's limp form seemed very small to him, prone as it was on the large mattress. Ozai took a few steps toward the door before he turned to look at her again. He punched out with one arm and fired a billowing torrent of fire at the bed. It went up like kindling, and smelled of burning flesh.

Wiping the sweat and tears from his face with the sleeves of his shirt, he turned and headed for the door. Zuko would pay.

* * *

><p>He found Ming as he had left her; huddled like a terrified opossum-sloth against the wall. When she spotted him coming her way—alone—she opened her mouth as if to ask about Azula but he cut her off with a dangerous look. To her credit she knew better than to press the matter. The guardswoman fell in step behind him, her occasional sniffle the only sound she dared make. They came across the aftermath of dozens of small battles as they made their way through the halls, each having left an array of charred or bloody victims in their wake. "Wait…" Ming finally said, stopping as Ozai continued past a set of double doors. "The stables are this way."<p>

"I'm not going to the stables." He replied darkly.

"But…But we need to get out of here before we're found. That way will lead us to the central palace; where most of the mob breached the gates…"

Ozai did not break stride. "I know. That's where my son will be."

He heard Ming curse in frustration, and then hasten her pace so that she could catch up to him. "Ozai, please. Please, just let it go—We have a _chance_. Don't you see that?" Her hand reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve.

"No, Ming. _We_ never did." He stopped, turning to face her.

Her face crumbled, and she shook her head as if denying what he had said would make a difference. "You don't mean that…"

Ozai reached out to run his fingers through her disheveled hair, gliding over crusted bits of blood and singed ends. "Ming." He murmured as he pulled her close and tangled his fingers in the long black strands. "You are immaterial to me."

She gasped softly at his harsh words, tears streaking anew down her filthy face. Her eyes searched his desperately, delicate features contorting to show her confusion and heartbreak.

"And you've outlived your usefulness."

Ming realized too late to scream when he grasped her roughly by the hair and slammed her head into the wall. She collapsed in a heap upon the floor; blood oozing into a crimson puddle around her face and staining her pale skin.

Ozai did not even spare the woman a second glance as he turned and made his way down the hall. Vengeance awaited, as did his throne. He would not tarry.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Yeah, I know this is short. And yeah, I know I just updated a few days ago. Sorry? This story is really winding down to the end (as you can probably tell), and I guess I'm just a little anxious to wrap it up. Most of you probably saw the first scene coming, but I wonder if I managed to throw a curveball with the second and last. The Azula bit made me sad to write. But I wanted to show the juxtaposition of Ozai's really perverse ideas of love and kindness with the reality that he just murdered his own daughter. And of course, it's all Zuko's fault he had to do it. What isn't? Ming, as many of you saw coming, had to find out the hard way that Ozai didn't love her._

_Reviewers, I was very appreciative of the wide array of insight that you all gave me last chapter. Your comments were instrumental in framing the details of the events in this one, and to follow. Please keep the suggestions coming! Next chapter, there will be some fight scenes. I'm dreading it, because I've never really written one before (and I scrapped the entire rough draft I'd started because it was just awful). Tips and advice would be much appreciated._


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 13: Vengeance**

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><p>He could hear the shouts of the crowd, the jeering and chanting amplified tenfold by the grand acoustics of the palace halls. Small fires burned everywhere, igniting ancient tapestries and priceless relics along the walls-but he passed them by with little thought. He did turn to stare for a moment at the gaping hole in a wall of sheer marble, but only until he saw another chunk of rubble ripped from the floor by an earthbender and thrown in the same general direction. People in the colonies were said to have allowed their bloodlines to be tainted with that of Earth Kingdom peasantry; the product often being green-eyed earthbenders sired or whelped by Fire Nation citizens. He had hoped that such abominations would be wiped out when he, as the Phoenix King, had launched his campaign to burn the entire wretched continent to ash...sort of like an added bonus to the total conquest of the world. Perhaps when Zuko was dead rounding up the crossbreeds and exterminating them would be his first act as the newly reinstated Fire Lord.<p>

Waves of angry protesters surged past him; looting and vandalizing anything in their paths, but no one seemed to pay him any mind. For that, he decided, perhaps he should have thanked Ming. He ran a hand absently through his short hair. Dressed only in simple clothing and with neither topknot nor beard to mark his station he probably appeared to be just another disgruntled colonial peasant. Such anonymity afforded him the freedom to move unhindered through the mob. And so he did.

"Down with the Restoration Movement!" A group of half-starved colonists cried, inciting a disjointed chant that spread over the sea of bodies.

"Give us back our homes!" another loud voice bellowed, and was answered with cheers and shouts of agreement.

Ozai smiled to himself and pushed through another mass of people, slowly but surely making his way toward the front of the gathering-the entrance to the throne room. Zuko would be holed up there with his elite guard, and likely his friends. Minus the Avatar, of course.

"Stand back!" someone shouted, and suddenly a boulder of marble was ripped from the floor-several people who had been standing on it toppling over as it shifted-and four great hulking earthbenders hurled it at the grand doors. They splintered into a thousand pieces.

In the blink of an eye everything had disintegrated into complete chaos. The crowd burst forward, trampling and hurtling over anything or anyone in their wake. Fire erupted from the throne room, and as he was pushed forward in the current of protestors Ozai could make out the ranks of elite firebending guards as they attempted to hold back the angry mob. They fell quickly to the sheer numbers against which they stood. The screams were deafening. Men wielding anything from Fire Nation steel to rusty old pitchforks were embroiled in heated battle with the rapidly dwindling guard force, and underfoot he realized his foot was no longer standing on hard marble, but the leg of a trampled corpse.

As he neared the entryway he felt something grab his shoulder, attempting to hold him back. Ozai spun, his fist already aflame, and shot a burst of fire right into the face of the unfortunate guard. He was dead before he hit the ground. He could see them now; the young earthbending girl, the water tribe boy. The Avatar's waterbender. And Zuko. They were retreating toward the far corner of the throne room; where Ozai knew the escape tunnel would lead them to safety. That would never do.

He pushed violently through the crowd, throwing guards and colonists alike aside as the adrenaline pumping through his veins spurred him onward. He stopped when he realized he would never make it in time at the painfully slow pace, and took the only form he knew that would give him the power to block the exit. The air around him crackled and sparked as he drew his arms around, and brilliant white light exploded from his fingertips as it arched through the throne room and struck his mark. A giant section of the ceiling burst down where his lightning had hit, falling nearly atop the Fire Lord's small group. One of them went down when a piece struck her in the head-the little green-clad earthbender. The rest of the rubble formed a massive pile; impassible. The escape route had been blocked; and with it pandemonium erupted. Over the crowd he could see Zuko's eyes searching frantically, full of fear. The boy knew his father was here the moment the lightning flashed overhead. Ozai grinned to himself. His unfortunate disguise certainly did have its benefits.

Although some of the mob standing nearby had turned disbelieving eyes upon him after his stunt, they were not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. The crowd needed no prodding. In the blink of an eye the small group was put on the defensive. From where he stood Ozai could see the young Water Tribe warrior dragging the earthbender's limp body away from the pile of rubble, swinging wildly with his black-bladed sword as he tried to protect her from the press of the mob. Zuko and the waterbender had lashed out immediately, working back to back to form a protective zone around their comrades. It wasn't working, though-they wouldn't be able to hold off the sheer volume of furious colonists for very long. The waterbender was already running out of her element; much of it being steamed away in her attempts to ward off firebender's flames.

Ozai moved ever closer, his predatory gaze never leaving the scene unfolding before him. It was as if the spirits themselves had delivered him this most perfect opportunity to exact the vengeance that he so deserved.

The Water Tribe boy had been disarmed at some point in the fray and had resorted to shielding the unconscious earthbender with his own body. As his sister realized his plight she fell back to help him, leaving Zuko to defend alone. This was his best chance, Ozai decided. He breathed deeply and summoned a powerful flame; reaching out to burn himself a path through whoever was unfortunate enough to stand in his way. A column of hungry fire burst from his hand; bright and hot.

Zuko's eyes met his. In them Ozai could see the swirling depths of hatred, fear, and...something else. The young Fire Lord brought his arms up as his father approached, ready to block his fire or redirect his lightning. Ozai prepared to unleash Hell; and it seemed the mob had parted to save themselves-until a large rock flew from the crowd and struck Zuko hard in the hip. He went down, crying out in agony; attempting fruitlessly to drag himself upright.

"ZUKO!" Katara screamed; and even in the mad chaos her voice rang out clearly through the throne room turned warzone.

Ozai laughed low in his throat-this was the moment he had so long awaited. "This ends now." he spat, and began the motions that would generate a powerful bolt of lightning. The air around him crackled and flickered; white hot light gathering at his fingertips. Electricity shot up his arms...and pain ripped through his back?

Something was wrong-terribly wrong. He felt the energy pulling back against him, crackling back into his body; drawn there by the point of metal that had emerged from his chest. The tip of a dagger pushed at the fabric of his shirt, soaked in blood. _My blood_...

The lightning burned so hot that he felt his nerves seared as waves of it rippled through his body. He needed to discharge-but the dagger's metallic pull was attracting it back into him. In seconds he would lose control of the bolt, and it would fry him from the inside out. His breath fled him, and he felt something warm and slick bubble up his throat and spill from his mouth. He looked ahead, at Zuko-his son-staring in frozen horror. The waterbender turned his head away, _"Don't look..."_she mouthed.

He felt his knees hit the floor, and then his shoulder as he toppled over. It was too much, now. He couldn't hold the energy any longer. Through the bluish white haze he looked up, and into the eyes of his murderer.

And saw Ming's bloody, broken face.

* * *

><p>Zuko clutched Katara to him, watching with revulsion as his father's electrified body sparked and burned.<p>

"Don't look, Zuko..." She murmured through her tears, pulling him closer.

But he could not tear his eyes away. Ozai, former Fire Lord, the Phoenix King-his _father_-was dead. Done in by his own greatest weapon. "He's gone."

The mob had backed away, giving wide berth to the horrific scene. Even their shouts and chanting had died away; the shuffling of their feet making more noise than their weapons. He wondered how long the lull would last.

A lone Fire Nation guard stood over Ozai's body; though most of her armor had been stripped away. When the woman raised her head he almost didn't recognize Ming's swollen, bloody face. Her nose had been broken, and likely her cheekbone along with it. Most of her flesh was black and blue, and her jaw hung open as if she was unable to close it, but she turned despite the difficulty to face her Fire Lord and saluted.

_She probably saved my life_, Zuko realized. He reached down to clutch at his hip where the rock had smashed into him; a groan escaping his lips. His legs would barely move, and sharp pain enveloped his body below the waist. "I can't get up, Katara."

"We have to move..._Now_..." Sokka's voice cut in. When Zuko turned his head to glance his way he saw that the other boy had slung Toph's little frame across his shoulders; carrying her the way he'd haul in a koala-deer carcass after a hunt. "Before they mobilize again."

"His hip is shattered, and I don't have enough water to heal it." Katara said, her chin quivering as she fought to quell her tears. She shook her head. "The passage is blocked. We're trapped."

"No, it's not over." Zuko rasped, reaching for Katara's hand. "We're not giving up."

"How are we supposed to get out of this?" the Water Tribe warrior asked.

"Well, for starters, you could put me down and let me bust us a path outta' here."

Golden eyes and two pairs of blue ones flicked to Toph's grinning face.

* * *

><p>The rolling chair creaked noisily as they made their way down the hall. Zuko resisted the urge to make some disparaging comment. He could walk now, with the help of a cane, but Uncle insisted that he allow himself to be transported in the wheeled chair Sokka had designed for him whenever the distance was strenuous. It had been almost six months since the revolt that had nearly plunged the Fire Nation back into war, and the reminders of it were all around. Earthbending craftsmen mulled about one section of the palace as they passed; pausing to bow to the Fire Lord and his esteemed Uncle before returning to the repairs they were making.<p>

"I never liked that wall there, anyway." Uncle commented as they continued. "Pretty soon this place will look as good as new. Just like you, Nephew. Why, if you would take that trip to the Northern Water Tribe like Miss Katara and I have been asking you to do, I'm sure their master water healers could complete your recovery in no time."

"You know I can't do that right now, Uncle. I'm too swamped with all the treaties and contract negotiations; and I've got to find money in the budget for the last of the colonist relocation stipends. Aang will be back here any day now with that new land concession agreement from the Earth King, and I still haven't even finished looking over the blueprints for Republic City." The young Fire Lord ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair. "Maybe after the groundbreaking ceremony at the end of the year I can fit in a side trip."

Iroh heaved a melodramatic sigh.

Zuko repressed a smirk, shielding his eyes from the sun's glare as two servants held open a pair of double doors for them to pass. The chair bounced and creaked loudly as it made its way over the cobblestones and down the path to the garden. As they neared the turtleduck pond Zuko noticed two figures already standing there. He had only been expecting one.

"Finally!" Katara smiled, waving him over. She approached and gave Iroh a peck on the cheek before leaning down to embrace Zuko and plant a kiss on his lips. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"I'm a busy man." He grinned, pulling his cane from the seat beside him and putting his weight upon it as he stood. His other hand found Katara's and he gave it a little squeeze before turning his attention to the other person standing there. "Hello, Ming."

"Fire Lord Zuko." She greeted softly, folding her hands into the traditional Fire Nation flame as she offered a slight bow.

Iroh padded past where he and Katara stood, approaching the young guardswoman and making a show of inspecting her. "Ah, my dear, look at you! You are positively glowing!" His hand shot out to pat the rounded swell of her belly.

Ming looked away, a rosy blush coloring her pale cheeks. Her face wasn't as pretty as it had once been, but the royal physicians and Katara's healing waters had done much to ease her injuries. "Thank you, General."

"I was just telling Ming how different she looks without her uniform." Katara put in, a lovely smile gracing her lips as she led Zuko down to the bank of the turtleduck pond and helped him to sit with his back against the willow-ash tree. "I guess Fire Nation standard issue doesn't exactly accommodate _all_ shapes and sizes."

Zuko nodded, taking a moment to look over the woman who had saved him from the fiery death his own father had intended for him. She was unremarkable by Fire Nation standards, with plain honey-colored eyes and a build that a million other girls from the Caldera had inherited. She must have noticed the scrutiny, for she raised a hand self-consciously to rest on her pregnant belly and lowered her gaze. Ming had never volunteered the name of her child's father, and neither Zuko nor Iroh had ever deigned to ask. Toph had, much to the embarrassment of Katara and the rest of them, but Ming had only replied that she didn't know. Later, Toph had confided in Zuko that she was lying. He had never pressed the matter, though. Ming was brave and loyal, and as far as he was concerned, she was entitled to her secrets. "I suppose I could have a set altered to fit you; though in truth I expect you'll be taking a leave of absence to focus on your…uh…family…soon."

Ming shook her head, smiling sadly. "No, that isn't necessary, my Lord. Actually, that's sort of the reason I came here to see you." She reached into the belt of her dress, withdrawing a tightly rolled scroll and proffering it for him to take. "I wanted to give you my formal resignation."

Zuko nodded, accepting the scroll. "I understand, though I hope you will reconsider. I need people I can trust; especially in the Elite Guard. It really would be a shame to lose you." He felt Katara's hand on his back, rubbing light circles between his shoulder blades.

"You honor me, my Lord." She bowed again, accepting the praise humbly. "Thank you for your offer, but I have already accepted another. Master Toph has asked me to accompany her to Republic City once her peacekeeping force is established and provide oversight on the firebending end. I can best serve our people there. It's a good opportunity for me...and a chance for a fresh start. For both of us." She sounded so very sad despite the fortunate circumstances she was describing.

He offered her a smile; though in truth he almost wished he could talk her out of it. Perhaps he would need to have a little talk with Toph about stealing talent. "I accept your resignation, Ming. But if you ever change your mind..."

She nodded; and then-almost as an afterthought-she pulled something else from her belt and held it out to him. "I...thought you should have this."

Katara reached out to take it so that Zuko would not have to lean forward again, but stopped when she realized what it was. "Oh..." It was the long dagger that the guardswoman had used to thwart Ozai's last attempt to kill his son. The weapon was sheathed in a simple brown leather casing; completely unremarkable save for the story it told.

"You keep it." Zuko told her, repressing a shudder. "The fewer reminders of that monster I have around the palace, the better."

Ming said nothing, tucking the weapon back into the fabric of her belt. Her hand moved to hold her belly once more, and Zuko swore he saw her blinking back tears.

"Come, my dear." Iroh's calm voice interjected as he placed a hand on the woman's should and guided her gently toward the palace. "I'll help get your paperwork started. I'm sure Miss Bei Fong will be thrilled to have your help getting security up and running in Republic City!"

He watched their backs as they went; tearing his eyes away only when a stray turtleduck waddled up from the pond and _'quacked'_its displeasure at being kept waiting. Katara's giggle elicited a smile from him, and the young Fire Lord reached into his sleeve to retrieve one of the stale dinner rolls he had pilfered from the palace kitchens. "I wonder what the future holds." He said absently.

Katara snuggled close, laying her head upon his shoulder as she held out a finger to stroke the shell of a turtleduck. "Good things." She said.

He lay his cheek upon her soft brown hair. "Yeah. You're probably right."

* * *

><p><em>AN: Holy crap, did I just finish a story? Well, not quite. There is an epilogue in the works, and I'll probably post it in the next day or two. I just had to throw in some stuff about Republic City…Have you all seen the first two episodes of Korra yet? A-Mazing. But I digress. "Conversations with Ozai" is at its end, and I do hope that you all have enjoyed it. I know I left a couple of big things ambiguous—trust me, it wasn't an oversight. I thought it best left unsaid that the Gaang managed to put down the revolt, that Aang eventually forgave Zuko and Katara, and that he realized how much suffering the Harmony Restoration Movement was causing. It just didn't seem necessary to go into great detail over those things, as they would have stifled the flow of this story. So I glossed. Liberally. _

_I also hope that I was able to do justice to Ozai's tragic end. Not that it was really all that tragic, because he was a total bastard by the time it came about, but I went into this story hoping to explore his character and try to show that maybe, once, there was a part of him that wasn't 100% Grade A Evil. Things just aren't that black and white, and to me the best characters in any piece of fiction have been the ones who walked that line of gray. It was surprisingly fun to have the opportunity to play around with what made him tick, even if things didn't turn out great for him in the end. The things that drove him to hate, and his hunger for power ultimately won out over whatever piece of him might still have been human._

_Of course, he did leave a little piece of himself behind. I just couldn't resist. More on that in the epilogue…*cackle!*_

_Reviewers: As always, you all are the best. I know I said it last time, but the credit for a lot of this story truly goes to you. Your reactions, thoughts, suggestions, and even your criticisms were instrumental in writing this piece. Thanks to every one of you who has taken the time to leave a review; but especially to those of you who have done so chapter after chapter. You've been inspiring._


	15. Chapter 15

**Epilogue: Beginnings**

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><p>The quiet swish of an ink brush across dry parchment was the only sound that filled the small room. The sun was high in the sky and from her desk near the window Ming could see the construction crews and machinery operators far below breaking for lunch. The Justice Building; home of the Republic City Police Department and Toph's new hand-trained metalbending force had been one of the first public structures completed. From there straight out to Yue Bay buildings in progress tickled the skyline. The young woman set her brush down, allowing herself to take in the beautiful image of her new home. The city that would be the crowning jewel of the free Republic that Avatar Aang, Fire Lord Zuko, and King Kuei had created was rising forth from the land as if the Spirits themselves had dreamed it into existence.<p>

The doorknob clicked and turned as the large wooden door slid open. A barrage of curses and muttering accompanied the girl as she entered. "Got another vandalism call. Someone scorched all the fire-lillies in the Azula Memorial Garden. Again. I swear, I wish Zuko would let me rename that place…it would save us so much trouble. You finished with that district report yet?"

Ming permitted a little smile to pull at her lips and turned to glance Toph's way. "I put that on your desk this morning. I was just signing off on next month's recruit dossiers. Did you get my mango smoothie?"

"Yeah, yeah..." The earthbender closed the door behind her and padded across the room to set one of the two tall glasses on the edge of the desk. "Not sure where you're gonna put all that-Aren't you out of space yet?"

Chuckling in spite of herself, Ming pushed her chair back-her belly was so large that she already felt as though she could barely sit comfortably at the desk. "I keep hoping that if I eat enough it will get too cramped in there and this little one will decide to come on out."

The blind girl made a disgusted face. "Make sure I'm not around when that happens, please."

She ran a hand over her sizeable abdomen lovingly, a smile still on her face. There were times when the impending trials of childbirth and motherhood made her everything from nervous to downright terrified, but Ming had spent much of the past nine months convincing herself that no matter what unfortunate tiles she had been dealt, it was her responsibility to her child to persevere.

The desk creaked as Toph pulled herself up to sit upon its edge; short legs swinging over the side. An awkward silence had begun to settle over the two of them, and just as the older woman picked up her glass and wrapped her lips around the straw the earthbender decided to broach the subject that had been somewhat of an elephant-panda in the room between them for months. "It's Ozai's, isn't it?"

Ming didn't answer. Her racing heart, she knew, would be enough for the prodigious earthbender to garner her response. There was no use lying to Toph.

"Look, I'm not judging. Things happen sometimes, and maybe we don't always have to be proud of them. I get it. It doesn't make you a bad person." Her milky green eyes stared off into nothing, but she inclined her head toward her friend and held out a small fist to lightly punch Ming's shoulder. "And Ming...It doesn't mean your kid will turn out like him, either."

Her gaze was lowered, studying the paperwork on her desk as if it were suddenly the most interesting stuff in the world. The ink smudged as the first tear hit the parchment, and then the second.

"Does Zuko know?"

"No." she whispered, not looking up.

"Did Ozai?"

Ming buried her face in her hand, choking back a sob. "No..."

Toph started to place another light punch against the other woman's shoulder, but hesitated, and laid an open palm on her arm instead. "Probably best if we just keep it between us, then, huh?" She gave her friend a little pat-gentle comforting techniques weren't exactly her thing.

Ming nodded.

A few more moments passed. "So…How did that work, exactly? You and him. I never really took ol' Loser Lord for the sweep-a-girl-off-her-feet type."

"It was…not a normal relationship." She answered hesitantly. "After Avatar Aang took his bending from him he and I were together every day, for more than a year. When you spend that much time with someone you start to see a different side to them. I know it's hard to believe, but sometimes, when it was just the two of us, he wasn't so bad. He could be sweet, when he wanted to be. I guess somewhere along the line I fell in love with him—or thought I did. I know I was naive. And I suppose, deep down, I always knew that he never loved me. But I wanted to believe that he could change. I wanted to give him a _reason_ to change." Her lip quivered as she took a shuddering breath. "For a time, I really thought that he had. He played me for a fool."

Toph cracked her knuckles absently as she listened. "He didn't escape on his own, did he?"

Dark hair brushed her shoulders as she shook her head.

A tiny smirk pulled at the corner of the earthbender's mouth. "You know, that kinda makes you the worst prison guard ever, right?"

Suddenly Ming was crying and laughing all at once. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and cupping her cheeks in her palms. "Yeah, I guess it does..."

"So how was he?"

"Huh?"

"You know." She winked with one sightless eye. "How was he?"

She blushed furiously, wiping at her damp eyes with the heels of her hands. "That's...You're not supposed to ask things like that. It's not something-"

Toph grinned, obviously pleased with herself. "Oh, come on. You're not going to be a prude like Katara, are you? I'm not as pure and innocent as I look. Did I ever tell you about the time I sucked The Boulder's-"

"Toph!" Ming exclaimed, scandalized. "We are _not_having this conversation!"

The little earthbender cackled madly, holding her sides as she doubled over with laughter. "Relax, Moonpeaches! I'm just trying to cheer you up!" Her laughing quieted to the occasional snicker and the two women sat in companionable silence once more for a while.

"You really think everything will turn out okay?" the older woman asked at last.

"Yeah." Toph smiled. "Kid's got a bright future here in Republic City."

* * *

><p><strong>68 Years Later...<strong>

"Pabu! Quit gnawing on that!" Bolin laughed, swiping playfully at the fire ferret as he hoisted the wooden crate on his shoulder and started across the room to add it to the pile of odds and ends stacked in the corner. The small attic atop the Pro-Bending Arena that the brothers called home was sparsely decorated and utilitarian, save for Bolin's collection of various junk. Mako had finally become fed up with the clutter and declared it cleaning day.

From her vantage point on the arm of the sofa Korra giggled. "Aw, he's just trying to help!"

Mako rolled his eyes, lifting up one of the battered old chairs beside the crate that served as their dining table to sweep beneath it. "Yeah, imagine that. Someone _helping_."

The young woman sighed, hopping off of her cozy seat. "Fine, fine. So what do you want me to do?" She stood with her hands on her hips, glancing around the room approvingly.

"You can start going through that bookshelf over there." Bolin put in helpfully, nodding toward the haphazardly constructed wooden shelving unit against the far wall.

The Avatar made her way to the shelf and started sorting through books and knick knacks; tossing far more than half into a pile on the floor. She slid her hand along the top shelf, thinking that it must be empty, until her fingers came into contact with something. Standing on tip-toes, Korra managed to get ahold of the item and pull it down for closer inspection. "Hey, what's this?"

"What's what?" The earthbender asked, setting down the desk clock he'd been dusting and heading over to stand beside his friend.

Korra held out the old fashioned dagger to him; its blade tucked safely away in a weathered leather sheath. "Looks like an antique."

"Huh." Bolin mused, turning the weapon over in his hands and drawing the blade out an inch or so to inspect its quality. "Pretty nice. Old Fire Nation military piece, I think. Hey Mako...Remind me again why we never pawned this?"

The older brother dropped his broom, stomping over to snatch the dagger out of Bolin's hand. "Because that was our grandmother's." he snapped, clearly agitated.

"Oh, right." Bolin made an effort to appear duly chastised before leaning over and whispering loudly into Korra's ear, "...On the firebender side."

The young woman held her hand to her mouth, grinning behind it. "I see." She cleared her throat, trying to be serious for her humorless friend's sake. "She must have been in the army way back when, huh?"

Mako shook his head, some of the tension leaving him. "No. Royal Guard. See..." He held up the weapon, pointing to the characters engraved on the hilt. "It says so right here. She served the Fire Lord."

"She knew Fire Lord Zuko? Wow…Why'd she give up a cushy job at the Fire Palace to come here?" Korra asked dryly, eliciting a snicker from the earthbender.

Waving a hand dismissively the firebender huffed in frustration and turned, tucking the dagger into his belt for safekeeping. "Forget it. Its historical significance is wasted on the two of you."

"Aw, come on, bro. Don't take everything so seriously."

Korra smiled, stepping forward to lay a hand on Mako's arm and reached for the hilt of the dagger. "It's probably got quite a story to tell, and it must have meant a lot to your grandmother if she brought it all the way here when she came from the Fire Nation." She paused, her lovely blue eyes quietly searching the gold ones that stared back at her. "I think it's sweet that you've held onto it for so long. Was your grandfather from the Fire Nation, too?"

The brothers exchanged glances. "Yeah." The elder replied.

Korra raised a brow curiously. "O…kay…So was he somebody important?"

Mako cast his golden eyes downward, fingering the hilt of the dagger. "No."

"Not really." Bolin added, shrugging.

"Uh, okay." The Avatar muttered, looking back and forth between the strangely quiet brothers. She stepped in closer to Mako, and waited expectantly for him to meet her eyes.

Several moments passed. "Ahem. Ahem." Bolin cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at the pair.

Mako turned away, though he was not quick enough to hide the reddening of his pale cheeks from his little brother. "Better get back to cleaning. We've got a match tonight and it's getting late."

"Yeah, I guess." Korra agreed, not overly enthusiastic.

The earthbender grinned knowingly.

* * *

><p><strong>THE END<strong>

* * *

><p><em>AN: Toes. She was going to say "Toes"….I just thought it came out funnier to leave it ambiguous. Credit for the inspiration for that idea goes to KimberlyT, whose multiple depictions of The Boulder in her stories amuse me greatly._

_So what's up with that last part? I don't know. Do Mako and Bolin know something? I don't know. That's for you to decide. It could go either way, really. I liked the idea of not giving a clear cut answer. I didn't want to go with the whole Amon thing that was suggested in some of the reviews-it just seemed too obvious. And this way is a little bit more optimistic. As heavy as this story got at parts, I really wanted to end it on a positive note._

_Reviewers: It has been a real pleasure writing this story, and I owe much of that enjoyment to you. _

_All Readers: I hope that you have been entertained by this story. If reading it made you feel—even for only a moment—the least bit of sympathy for Ozai, then I did what I set out to do. If you have enjoyed this tale and stuck with it to completion, I hope that you will consider adding it to your Favorites list. Also, I have decided that this won't be my last attempt at fanfiction. I hope that in the very near future I will be able to share more of my ridiculous head canon with you…Keep an eye out for it!_

_Thank you all again for reading!_


	16. CwO: Alternate Ending and Epilogue

A/N: This is an ALTERNATE ending to **Conversations with Ozai** that begins during _Chapter 12: Mercy_. During the events of that chapter, Ozai comes to a crossroads. He will make a choice that will resonate throughout the rest of his life. In the original version of this story, which you can still read if you so choose, he took a path that I felt was most in character for him given the circumstances...however, since the day this story was marked "complete" I have gotten messages decrying it as a shame, and asking for an alternate end. Well, many months later, I finally got around to doing it. What you see below is _Chapter 12: Mercy_ revised; as well as a new Epilogue.

You can read this ending...or you can read the original ending...or, if you are like me and enjoy keeping your options open, you can read both. The changes are subtle at first, but by the end I think you'll find the difference remarkable. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12: Mercy<strong>

* * *

><p>After the initial thrum of activity, an eerie silence took over. He had heard a loud skirmish coming from the hallway, and the sound of boots retreating, but now there was nothing. Through the window he could still see the smoke and fires, hear the explosions, and every once in a while make out the sound of someone screaming or barking orders. He tried to keep his breathing low and steady, though the dreadful mask made it difficult and the sharp pain in his side emanating from his cracked rib made every breath feel shallow.<p>

He looked up quickly when he heard footfalls echoing down the hallway, drawing near. Without warning his door burst open, and someone flew into the room with reckless abandon. Ming, he realized, as the orange glow from the window illuminated her features enough for him to make out the woman's form. She was hysterical, gasping for breath between her shuddering sobs. As she hurried nearer; almost toppling him over when she crashed into him, he could see that she had a large gash on her cheek. Blood and soot smeared her face, her tear tracks leaving trails of pale skin visible through the mess.

"We have to go..." She cried, "...We have to go _now_! The palace is under attack-oh, Agni!-We have to get out!" She reached to her belt and pulled out her dagger. The weapon was standard issue for the royal guard, but most imperial firebenders never had issue to use it for anything more than popping open their ration tins or trimming the hooves of a kimodo-rhino while out on assignment. Her trembling hand grasped a fistful of his long black hair, and without warning she slashed at it close to his scalp.

Ozai could not speak, but he began to struggle against her, groaning unintelligible curses and profanities as she systematically cut his hair away. He looked down, horrified, as the pile of long dark strands on the floor around him grew.

Ming bawled uncontrollably, her entire body shaking as she went about her task. "I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...If they see who you are they'll kill you! Oh, Spirits, we have to hurry..." When the last of his hair was cropped short, leaving uneven patches all over his head, she gathered up the clippings into a pile on the floor and shot a blast of fire at it.

The stench of burning hair assaulted him, and he was caught unaware as the guardswoman's shaking hands pulled the mask away from his face. "What in the name of-!" He began to shout, but was cut short as she grabbed his long beard and sliced it clean away with her knife.

She tossed the beard into the pile of burning hair and began fumbling at her belt again, the sobs wracking her body making it difficult for her to locate the keys for which she was searching. When at last she found them she scooted around behind the bound prisoner and began unlocking his shackles and bindings.

Ozai cursed at her, growling in frustration even as he felt his limbs move freely once again. His arms tingled down to his fingertips as the blood rushed back into the extremities, and he flexed them to settle their shaking as he reached to his head to touch his newly shorn hair. When he spoke to her it came out more like a growl. "By all Koh's bloody faces, woman, _have you lost your mind_?"

Ming was still blubbering, subconsciously rocking herself back and forth where she knelt beside him clutching her dagger in one hand and her keys in the other. "It's awful..." she whimpered. "Fighting everywhere-_Agni_, there are so many of them..."

He bit back some choice commentary and instead lurched to his feet, moaning in pain as the motion caused his cracked rib to shoot an agonizing sensation throughout his side. He had half a mind to leave the crazy wench where she was, but if things were as bad as she said he decided he might want someone to watch his back. He was a bit rusty, after all. Gritting his teeth, he reached down to grab Ming by one of her arms; hauling her roughly to her feet beside him. "Let's go."

She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his neck as she cried.

"Pull yourself together, Ming." He told her, less than kindly. The former Fire Lord stood there and allowed the woman to compose herself, eyeing the smoking pile of ash that lay on the floor behind her with unmasked contempt. When her sobs subsided to quiet weeping he pushed her away and started for the door. He heard her footsteps follow, but hardly cared. _Free...I'm free...  
><em>  
>When they stepped out into the hallway he was taken aback by the sight of blood and bodies. Three guards lay with their corpses filled with arrows; one of them with his arm hacked off. Beside them half a dozen un-uniformed bodies were strewn; their charred flesh still smoking.<p>

Ming started to pick a path through the carnage, heading in the direction of the exit that would let out nearest the stables.

Ozai turned and walked the other way.

"Where are you going?" She whispered loudly when she realized he was not behind her. Swinging around to look at him with wide, terror-filled eyes, she started back toward him.

"Stay here. I won't be long."

"What are you doing? We need to get out _now_!" Her voice was shaken.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, but did not slow his pace. "I can't leave her. Just wait here."

Ming sank to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest and nodded.

* * *

><p>There were no guards standing vigil at the entrance to Azula's suite. No doubt they had all abandoned their posts or been driven away when the fighting began. The door was locked, but Ozai had raised a hand and for the first time in over a year called the power of the flame to his command. A wave of euphoria swept over him, and despite the dire situation he felt himself grin. The molten remains of the lock fell away to the floor as he pushed the heavy mahogany door open.<p>

Someone had straightened up the room since the last time he had been in it. The clutter was put away, but old scorch marks still remained. His eyes were immediately drawn to the still figure lying on the bare mattress. She was awake; murmuring to herself incoherently. The self-inflicted scratches and burns that had marred her flawless features when he had seen her last were no longer there-the waterbender must have healed them as Zuko had said she would.

"No...You don't know anything. You weren't even here. You are BANISHED! Shut up. I'm the Fire Lord, now. Quit mocking me. No...Traitor. Traitors. All traitors. No. Be _quiet_."

He approached the bed, reaching out a hand to lay upon his daughter's forehead as she lay babbling to herself. She jerked slightly at his touch, her wild golden eyes flicking up to meet his. "Azula." he said softly, and she laughed. Ozai sighed.

"You see? He loves ME. I order you to die. Agni Kai! _Peasant_. I'll show you lightning..."

"Azula..." he said again.

"Father?" She asked before launching into another garbled tirade.

Ozai frowned, and ran his fingers lightly over her cheek. "I can't take you with me. But I won't leave you like this." He sat on the bed beside her and pulled her up against him so that her back leaned against his chest. Her skin was clammy and hot to the touch; far hotter than that of a normal firebender. When she was a child, he remembered, she would have nightmares and on many a night he had awakened to the sound of sniffling and a tiny hand on his. Of course he had complained when Ursa would pull the little girl up into their bed to sleep between them. The child had been like a furnace against his back as she slept; and it had been his first indication that perhaps the extent of her powers was something worth investigating. But being a firebending prodigy, unfortunately, hadn't saved her from _this _fate.

She began to weep. "I'm the Fire Lord. Father loves me more. Shut up. Shut up. No...I made him proud. I made him proud!"

Wrapping his arms around her shoulders he held her for a moment; his cheek resting against the black stubble that was all that remained of her once beautiful raven hair. "You made me very proud." he whispered, and kissed her head.

"Daddy?"

He reached around, lodging her neck in the crook of his elbow.

"Daddy-Gnn!"

She thrashed and sputtered as he squeezed, and it took every bit of his diminished strength to hold her down as he choked the life breath out of her. When at last it was done, and her body lay limp against his, he kissed her head again-ignoring the hot tears that pricked his eyes, and pushed her off of him. She had earned better than this, truly, but the gift of a quick death was a mercy. No Princess of the Fire Nation deserved to live a life of weakness and indignity. He grasped his side and stood.

Azula's limp form seemed very small to him, prone as it was on the large mattress. Ozai took a few steps toward the door before he turned to look at her again. He punched out with one arm and fired a billowing torrent of fire at the bed. It went up like kindling, and smelled of burning flesh.

Wiping the sweat and tears from his face with the sleeves of his shirt, he turned and headed for the door. Zuko would pay.

* * *

><p>He found Ming as he had left her; huddled like a terrified opossum-sloth against the wall. When she spotted him coming her way—alone—she opened her mouth as if to ask about Azula but he cut her off with a dangerous look. To her credit she knew better than to press the matter. The guardswoman fell in step behind him, her occasional sniffle the only sound she dared make. They came across the aftermath of dozens of small battles as they made their way through the halls, each having left an array of charred or bloody victims in their wake. "Wait…" Ming finally said, stopping as Ozai continued past a set of double doors. "The stables are this way."<p>

"I'm not going to the stables." He replied darkly.

"But…But we need to get out of here before we're found. That way will lead us to the central palace; where most of the mob breached the gates…"

Ozai did not break stride. "I know. That's where my son will be."

He heard Ming curse in frustration, and then hasten her pace so that she could catch up to him. "Ozai, please. Please, just let it go—We have a _chance_. Don't you see that?" Her hand reached out and grabbed him by the sleeve.

"No, Ming. _We_ never did." He stopped, turning to face her.

Her face crumbled, and she shook her head as if denying what he had said would make a difference. "You don't mean that…"

Ozai reached out to run his fingers through her disheveled hair, gliding over crusted bits of blood and singed ends. This woman was not Ursa. She never could be, not even if he let himself give her the chance. It would be as unfulfilling as drinking water to taste fire brandy. "If I leave with you I will never have vengeance." he said simply as his arm dropped back to his side.

"This is madness..." She whispered, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "What do you think could come of it? You can't kill Zuko. Ozai, he's your _son_..."

"My son? You mean my curse!" he spat, "Look around you! Look what he has done...He's destroyed everything he's ever touched...My nation, my marriage, my family..."

"No, Ozai, he didn't." Ming's voice cut in sadly. "That wasn't Zuko." There was the weight of her trembling hand on his shoulder, and the brush of her lips against the shell of his ear. "That was _you_."

His mouth opened to retort, but the empty words melted like ash on his tongue. There was a chill that went through his body, so cold that it burned, and his breath hitched in his throat. Through a sudden haze in his vision he saw Ming step away from him, heard the hurried clacking of her boots against the marble, felt the rush of tepid air that smelled of smoke and pitch that swept through the hallway as she pulled the doors open...but in that instant his mind was long gone; lost in the memory of a moment long ago when a Princess of the Fire Nation had kissed him for the last time before vanishing into the night. The dagger that had stilled Fire Lord Azulon's heart was a kindness compared to what losing Ursa had done to his own. He thought of the tears that had run down her beautiful face, and could almost feel the force of her small fists as they pounded against his chest while she begged him over and over again to choose Zuko over the throne—to save the boy and keep him safe because he was _theirs_; he was her world. And she was his. If he had, perhaps his wife would still be by his side. But he hadn't chosen Zuko; and the price he'd paid was heavy indeed. It had cost him Ursa. It had cost him his family. And now, it had cost him everything else. The sudden clarity that flooded his understanding cut a part of it that he didn't realize he had left. "Agni..." he breathed.

"Are you coming?" the guardswoman asked, her eyes weary and defeated.

Ozai cast one last look over his shoulder down the hallway that led to the throne room before turning and following Ming out the door without another word.

* * *

><p>The rolling chair creaked noisily as they made their way down the hall. Zuko resisted the urge to make some disparaging comment. He could walk now, with the help of a cane, but Uncle insisted that he allow himself to be transported in the wheeled chair Sokka had designed for him whenever the distance was strenuous. It had been almost six months since the revolt that had nearly plunged the Fire Nation back into war, and the reminders of it were all around. The most poignant reminders; however, were the ones that weren't there to be seen.<p>

In the chaos that had erupted throughout the capital there had been many lives lost; civilians and guards alike. Revolutionaries had overtaken much of the palace on that fateful day, and by the time Avatar Aang had returned to bolster the Fire Lord's forces and bring the fighting to an end they had already burned one wing to the ground. Zuko himself had uncovered Azula's charred remains; and what remained of his Elite Guard had been forced to admit that chained and bound as Ozai had been, there was little doubt that the former Fire Lord had likewise succumbed to a fiery end. Most people thought it poetic; that the Universe should decide to punish the Pheonix King who tried to burn the world to ash by ending his life in flames. Most people didn't mourn him. Most people were glad he was dead. Most people didn't know that when Zuko had found the steel mask and chains that had once held his father in the rubble, that their locks had been unclasped.

Earthbending craftsmen mulled about one section of the palace as they passed; pausing to bow to the Fire Lord and his esteemed Uncle before returning to the repairs they were making. "I never liked that wall there, anyway." Uncle commented as they continued. "Pretty soon this place will look as good as new. Just like you, Nephew. Why, if you would take that trip to the Northern Water Tribe like Miss Katara and I have been asking you to do, I'm sure their master water healers could complete your recovery in no time."

"You know I can't do that right now, Uncle. I'm too swamped with all the treaties and contract negotiations; and I've got to find money in the budget for the last of the colonist relocation stipends. Aang will be back here any day now with that new land concession agreement from the Earth King, and I still haven't even finished looking over the blueprints for Republic City." The young Fire Lord ran a hand through his shaggy dark hair. "Maybe after the groundbreaking ceremony at the end of the year I can fit in a side trip."

Iroh heaved a melodramatic sigh.

Zuko repressed a smirk, shielding his eyes from the sun's glare as two servants held open a pair of double doors for them to pass. The chair bounced and creaked loudly as it made its way over the cobblestones and down the path to the garden. As they neared the turtleduck pond Zuko allowed his gaze to settle upon the familiar form he had been expecting to find.

"Finally!" Katara smiled, waving him over. She approached and gave Iroh a peck on the cheek before leaning down to embrace Zuko and plant a kiss on his lips. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"I'm a busy man." He grinned, pulling his cane from the seat beside him and putting his weight upon it as he stood. His other hand found Katara's and he gave it a little squeeze before turning his attention to the scroll she had tucked into her belt. "What's that?"

The waterbender shrugged, guiding him over to a grassy patch beneath the tree and helping him to sit before reaching for the scroll and proffering it. "I'm not sure—it arrived just today. It's addressed to you and I both, so I wanted to wait until we could open it together."

Zuko nodded, accepting the scroll and sliding his thumb under the wax seal absently. As his eyes began to scan the characters he felt Katara's hand on his back, rubbing light circles between his shoulder blades.

She must have felt his spine stiffen, for she ceased her ministrations immediately. "What's wrong, Zuko?"

"I..." He began, but couldn't find the words. The ghost of a smile fleeted across his lips, and he turned his face to regard Katara. "Here."

Frowning; her brows furrowed with concern, the young woman accepted the opened scroll and softly read it aloud. "Honorable Fire Lord Zuko. She was right to choose you. My greatest regret is that I did not. Please forgive me." She turned it over, examining the blank alternate side and then flipped it back once again; confusion marring her pretty features. "That's it? I don't get it. No one's signed it...what does it mean?"

The young Fire Lord blinked the moisture from his eyes, glancing over to find his uncle smiling at him from where he stood near the rolling chair. "It means I was right to take a chance."

From the quirk of her eyebrow and the pursing of her lips Zuko could tell that Katara was unsatisfied with the cryptic answer. "A chance on what?"

"On second chances." He leaned over and kissed her even as she rolled her blue eyes at him, tearing himself away only when a stray turtleduck waddled up from the pond and '_quacked' _its displeasure at being kept waiting. Katara's giggle elicited a grin from him, and the young Fire Lord reached into his sleeve to retrieve one of the stale dinner rolls he had pilfered from the palace kitchens. "I wonder what the future holds." He said absently.

Katara snuggled close, laying her head upon his shoulder as she held out a finger to stroke the shell of a turtleduck. "Good things." She said.

He lay his cheek upon her soft brown hair. "Yeah. You're probably right."

* * *

><p><strong>Alternate Epilogue<strong>

* * *

><p>It was cold. The snow had slowed, but the chill in the air left no doubts that the high banks of white powder through which we trudged would be amassing for quite some time. High Winter clouds streaked across the brilliant blue sky, their feathery tendrils obscured by the soaring stones of the dozens of tall buildings that made up Republic City's growing skyline. I pulled my thin coat tightly around myself, bracing against the frigid gusts that swirled snowflakes all around my ankles and into the tops of my boots; my teeth chattering inside my skull. Clasping ungloved hands before my chapped lips, I blew against my pale fingers and hoped that my breath would combat the numbness that had set in. This time of year always made me wish I had been born in the Fire Nation.<p>

"Quit dawdling." He called back over his shoulder, the condensation of his hot breath ghosting into the air as wisps of fog. His hands were in his pockets, but he wore no coat and yet seemed hardly to notice that it was cold enough to freeze piss before it could hit the ground. It was a firebender thing, no doubt; though such techniques were still far beyond my own modest abilities. My mother had been a patient teacher, but she wasn't around anymore and trying to learn anything from him was about as painful as pulling teeth. Not that he didn't try—in fact, when my abilities had first manifested he had taken a special interest in my training—but it soon became apparent that I would be a "late bloomer" (as mother had so gently put it), and our sessions always ended in mutual frustration. He was never cruel to me, but I think perhaps whoever trained him as a boy never showed him much leniency.

"Do we have to do this today?" I asked, careful to keep any trace of a whine out of my voice. He had no patience for such childishness. "It's already getting late, anyway. Maybe it would be better to wait until tomorrow when the snow stops."

"No." He shook his head, the short tail of dark hair tied at the nape of his neck swishing against his shoulders. It was streaked with gray now, especially at his temples. He would sometimes look in the mirror when he thought no one was watching and frown as he picked at the silvery strands, so I knew it must have bothered him. Not that he would ever admit it.

I heaved a quiet sigh. There wasn't really any point in arguing with him; not about this. Instead, I bit my tongue and focused upon putting one foot in front of the other. The angry squawk of an ostrich-horse startled me from the exhausting monotony and I looked up to see a cart with its wheels stuck in a high snowdrift. The animal stomped impatiently, while its driver uselessly snapped the reigns again and again. I grimaced and tossed a sympathetic glance at it as I passed. We both knew it wasn't going to move until it was good and ready. Perhaps I'd been thinking on that too hard, because I didn't realize that we had stopped to cross a street until I shuffled full force into his back. I backpedaled and lost my footing, slipping on the slick ice covered cobblestones and landing firmly on my rear.

His golden gaze met my own, and from the ever so slight twitch at the corner of his mouth I could tell he was resisting the urge to say something. Mother had always insisted that if he didn't have anything nice to say, he should say nothing at all. Sometimes I resented her for that, especially after she died, because it oftentimes meant that he and I would go days with hardly a word between us. When he held out his hand to me I wasted no time taking it; relishing the warmth of his skin against the prickling numbness of my own as he pulled me to my feet. It was all too fleeting.

"Are we almost there?" I ventured, glancing around at the frost covered windows and decorative awnings of the buildings around us. We were near Central Station, clear on the other side of town from the tiny apartment we shared in the residential borough of Dragon Flats. He worked long hours at the plant in neighboring White Falls, heating great cauldrons of water to steam to generate electricity for the city's power grid. Most days he would be gone for his first shift before I even awoke in the mornings, and would not arrive home until it was nearly time for bed again. Still, with so many skilled firebenders from the old imperial army having flooded the workforce after the war ended, jobs were scarce and the pay was scarcer. His grueling labor barely earned him enough to keep us clothed, fed, and sheltered. When mother had been well enough to find work in the factories it hadn't been so bad. We'd had enough to keep our bellies full back in those days. As I looked around at the rows of newly constructed shops and town homes; their decorative stone facades finer than the fanciest tenement in the richest neighborhood back home in Dragon Flats, I couldn't help but wonder why the spirits blessed some people with such means, and others with nothing. "I'm freezing..." It wasn't a lie.

I heard him sigh, and after a moment he slowed his pace. The door to a shop swung open half a block ahead of us, and two women dressed in Earth Kingdom greens stepped out into the cold. Their arms were laden with furs and bolts of fabric; the silks and koala-wools dyed in a dozen shades of azure, emerald, and scarlet. We approached as they began loading the goods into the back of a large metal ostrich-horseless steam carriage. They were a relatively new sight around the city. I eyed the contraption curiously—it was probably the closest I had ever been to one.

A man who was clearly a water tribesman emerged from the machine a moment later, a string of curses falling from his lips as he slammed a mittened fist onto the hood and kicked the panel of one of the doors. "Piece of tiger-seal shit...Damned starter light went out again." The two women seemed dismayed.

"I'll light it for you." I offered, smiling despite the pain it caused my cracking lips. The younger of the two women returned the gesture; her cheeks flushing prettily as she leaned over and whispered something in her companion's ear. When the man waved me over I quickly picked my way through the snow to them, being careful not to lose my footing again. He opened one of the panels on the front of the carriage and pointed to a small wick that lie deep within. I reached my hand inside and touched my fingertip against it, willing my chi to bring a flame forth. It would not come. What color there was quickly drained from my face, and I could hear the soft giggles of the two women behind me. I tried again...and failed. "Maybe the wick got wet..."

"Step back." I heard him say, and with shame in my eyes I obeyed. He took my place, reaching his long arm into the machine and easily sparking flame to life upon the wick. I heard the water tribesman grunt his approval and a moment later he was sitting in the driver's compartment. The engine roared to life. My heart sank, and I felt the back of my throat begin to sting.

"However can we thank you?" the older of the two women asked. She batted her eyelashes and glanced back and forth between him and the younger girl.

"Sell me a length of wool." He nodded toward the colorful array of fabric in the back of the vehicle, and the woman quickly waved him over. I glanced at the younger of the pair again and felt heat rise in my cheeks as I realized she was looking at me, too. Her eyes were a shade of green that would make the most brilliant crystal in all of the Earth King's court seem like some dull rock in comparison, and I thought that in that moment I could stare into them forever. When I felt his hand on my shoulder I was startled back into my senses and lowered my gaze sheepishly. "Sometimes the cold can make it difficult." He said under his breath, "Don't be ashamed." Suddenly there was a feeling of warmth, and the glide of something soft and fluffy against the skin of my neck.

"What's this?" I asked as I ran my hands along the deep crimson scarf he had wrapped around my collar. The garment was tightly knit from thin fibers of koala-wool, not silk, but it was finer than anything else that either one of us owned. "We can't afford this..."

"You said you were cold." He replied simply, and gave me a look that suggested I not argue further. I pressed my lips together and watched as the older woman pocketed the handful of yuans that he had traded for the red scarf. It was easily half a week's rent. When I realized that he was already walking again, it was all I could do to glance back at the girl with the pretty eyes and her companions as I reluctantly followed.

It was several moments before I caught up to him, and by then we had turned down one of the main avenues. This was a part of Republic City that we rarely visited—it was far from our home and the shops here catered primarily to the growing middle class of the United Republic. I had come here with my mother the Summer before she fell ill. She'd gone to the Justice Building and applied to join the new Republic City police academy; but when the Chief of Police, Toph Bei Fong herself, had walked in to the room to conduct her interview my mother must have changed her mind. I don't know what the legendary Metalbender said to her, but she wept the whole walk home. By then I was used to seeing her cry, though. She loved me dearly and told me so every day of my life, but at times I wondered why she stayed with us. They fought mostly when they thought I was asleep, but I would often lie awake and listen to the harsh words they exchanged. If they ever had love for one another at all, there was none left by the time I was old enough to remember it. "Is it much farther?"

"Over there." He answered, nodding toward the station entrance. I had to quicken my pace to keep up with him, but once he rounded the corner ahead of me he came to a halt. Both of our eyes were drawn to the magnificent statue in the center court; a towering likeness of Fire Lord Zuko that stood vigil over the station like some bronze sentinel out of a children's tale. Piles of flowers and sticks of faintly smoking incense lay piled around the base of the imposing figure; most covered in a thin layer of freshly fallen snow. A cone of flame burned steadily in the statue's upraised hand, and even from where I stood I could feel the heat radiating from it. For an instant I forgot the biting cold and my aching feet, and could do nothing but bask in the glory of all the statue was meant to represent—The brave prince who had become a savior to his nation and the world when he helped Avatar Aang to end the Hundred Year War; who had gone on to co-found the United Republic and the city itself. Fifteen years had passed since Sozin's Comet, and in that time the world had found peace and balance once again. The Fire Lord was a living legend.

"It's amazing..." I breathed. Today was the anniversary of the Fire Lord's coronation. At only seventeen years old he had taken the crown and officially called an end to his forefather's brutal legacy. "To think that he accomplished so much when he was barely older than I am now." Awestruck, I turned to regard him with a smile. "He saved the world, even after everything terrible that it threw at him...after what his own father did to him..." I glanced back at the statue; gaze drawn to the gruesome scar that marred its upturned visage, and my hand rose instinctively to touch the left side of my face.

A yelp escaped my lips; breath trailing white mist into the cold air around me, as I felt his fingers wrap around my wrist and yank it away. Before I could even react he was pulling me into a tight embrace; his strong arms wrapping around my back and cradling my head against his chest. He was so warm. I huddled closer to him; allowing myself to enjoy his rare display of affection. I knew that long ago my mother had served in the palace of the Fire Lord, and she had told me stories of his kindness that had led me to admire him as much as she obviously did. He had come from the Fire Nation, as well—though he spoke very little of his life before he and mother had made their way to Republic City. I assumed that he must have done something that he wasn't proud of during the war. So many firebenders had back then. It had never occurred to me that he, too, might have idolized Fire Lord Zuko and supported his ascent to the throne. Something about this day seemed to be one of the few things that meant anything to him. "Is this why you brought me here?" I asked after a long spell, when his warmth had returned the feeling to my extremities.

He did not answer me, but I felt his shoulders quake and jaw tremble where it rested atop my head. Even when mother died he had not shed a tear, but I was certain that the droplets of water that fell against my neck were not snow. It was unsettling to me.

"Dad?" I whispered. "Are you okay?"

"Promise me something." he said, some softer quality that was unfamiliar to me having overtaken the usual gruffness of his voice. When I pulled away and looked up to meet his eyes he continued, "Some day, when you have children of your own, you must always keep them safe. Do you hear me? No matter what the cost."

I nodded, my brow furrowed in confusion, and murmured a quiet "Of course...".

For the longest time I wondered why he had said those words, but nevertheless I carried my promise with me. Perhaps knowing that I would need to be strong for someone was the reason, but in the years that followed I came into my own as a firebender. He even taught me to bend lightning—a technique that in the olden days had only been reserved for firebenders of the highest order. When I married that girl; the one with the green eyes, he reminded me of the promise I'd made that day at the station. He lived long enough to see his first grandson born. My wife and I had considered naming him after Fire Lord Zuko, but something about the look in my father's eyes when we told him that made us change our minds.

It was the black lung that took him. Firebenders are prone to it since they spend so much time inhaling the smoke from their flames, and he had spent a lifetime doing it. The night he died I had sat at his bedside mopping the sweat from his brow and the blood from his lips. He turned to me; his golden eyes so, so tired, and made me promise again to keep my children safe no matter what. I was a father, then, and understood completely what I had struggled to comprehend that day as a boy. "Of course, Dad. I would give my life itself. You can rest now."

He did. The fever had touched his mind by that point, and I believe at the end he had forgotten himself. He spoke words not meant for me, but a woman whose name was not my mothers. When he breathed his last, it was with a smile on his face. I cannot help but think that he was ready.

Time passed, and I thought on the promise I had made to him every time I looked at my son...sons, actually, as by then my wife had borne me a second boy; this one with eyes as green as hers. They were my world.

On the 60th Anniversary of the end of the Hundred Year War, we dressed in our warmest coats and set off toward Central Station to celebrate by laying flowers at the statue of Fire Lord Zuko's feet. It was a cold evening, just as it had been all those years ago, and I still wore the red scarf my father had put around my neck that day. My boys were six and eight, and loved one another dearly as brothers should. The younger complained of the cold, so the older one took of his coat and put it around brother's shoulders. I smiled and pulled the scarf from my neck; wrapping it around my firstborn's bare one. "To keep you safe from the cold." I explained, and he grinned before running up ahead to catch up to his sibling.

I remembered the promise I had made to my father so many years ago. And when three men stepped from an alleyway; putting themselves between my children and me, I kept that promise. I paid the highest price.

I do not regret it.

* * *

><p><em>AN: Once again, I would like to thank all of my readers for taking the time to see this through to the (alternate!) end. I hope you've enjoyed it._

_I would love to hear your thoughts-especially from those of you who are familiar with the original ending. Which do you like better?_

_As a sidenote, I thought the epilogue was written vaguely enough to stand on its own as a one-shot over in the Legend of Korra section of , so it is posted there as __**On a Cold Day**__. If you would like to leave comments specific to that section, feel free to do so either here or in the reviews for that one._

_Thank you!_


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